


All of This Past

by TruthandChaos



Series: All of this Past Series [1]
Category: X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-29 00:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20073025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruthandChaos/pseuds/TruthandChaos
Summary: All of her life she had been careful,avoiding the rest of the world because her mutation could kill her. Then Charles Xavier and Ororo Munroe convince her to rejoin the world. She should of known there would be trouble. Logan/OC





	All of This Past

**Author's Note:**

> This is approximately 100 pages. It will be a decent read.
> 
> I am currently working on the sequel.

**Chapter 1: **

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, Stan Lee and Marvel (now Disney too bleh) do.

Chapter Soundtrack:

Through the Trees - Low Shoulder

Worry About You - Ivy

Leave Out All the Rest - Linkin Park

All of this Past - Sarah Bettens

* * *

It helped if she breathed. The doctor and a few nurses had warned her about the anxiety. The possibility of having an emotional or mental breakdown because of the anxiety. People that lived closed off from others for more than six months had those problems.

But did it really count as being closed off from others if she didn't have normal levels of human interaction in the first place? She breathed in again. Artificially cooled air filtering through thoughts and memories not her own.

She breathed out heavily and carefully adjusted the hood of her jacket so that it set between her forehead and the glass of the car. Who knew what was on this window. Superficially or not. The scenery of mid-state New York passed by. It was dusky and grey with the first signs of a storm brewing. The sky swirled with dark clouds. There was no sign of lightning or thunder yet. No rain fall that she could detect.

The taxi driver had tried making conversation every few minutes, but when she refrained from answering with more than a few syllables, he eventually stopped talking. People liked to chit chat. Small talk. Politics at first then where she was going.

He had shut up when she said where. It was better when he was quiet.

Holly just liked the quiet.

The silence felt like cool air filtering through her cluttered mind. Even though her clothes hadn't been made in sweatshops, they still carried the imprints of where they were made, who they were made by, and their travel before arriving at her door in a box that a machine prepared. It would take a while for the memories to filter and settle.

It would take a while for her to absorb and adjust.

Holly blinked slowly, absorbing, adjusting, and breathing.

"Lady," the taxi driver said cautiously, "I've heard stories about this place. You sure you want to go there?"

Her smile was wry. If he only knew. A hot puff of air revealed what looked like a smudged hand print on the glass of the passenger window.

It took a moment to decide how bad the pain would be if she used her fingers. Her hands were the most sensitive, closely followed by her arms. Her forehead and the top of her head were almost as bad. There were other places, better places. Her feet.

She couldn't take off her shoes in here. That would require removing her socks. Who knew what kind of transfer was on this floor. Not to mention what kind of gunk could be down there. She had been in a few cabs that were not so…clean.

In the end Holly touched only the tip her nose to the glass. "Your wife had sex with your partner back here." She saw them, entwined, their breathing heavy. It had been going on for months. His wife was leaving him soon.

Holly pulled away from the window. The taxi driver gripped the steering wheel until the leather made a sound. She wiped at her nose with the back of one sleeve. Holly imagined his knuckles were white. "Last Tuesday, while you were at the doctor's office."

The car stopped short.

The cabbie, Richard was his name as she saw from the label on his dash, got out. He went around the back and popped the trunk. Her duffel bag and single suitcase hit the dirt. Richard didn't look at her when he opened the back left passenger door. He didn't look in the rear view mirror as he pulled away.

The sky cracked with lightning. Thunder rolled.

Fantastic.

Drenched. Cold. Sticky. Hungry. Tired. Sore. Dirty.

Alone.

All the words describing Holly's present state as she pushed open the heavy oak door to the mansion that posed as a school. Two hours it had taken her to walk. The rain, which had blessedly stopped about ten minutes prior had plastered her short, dark bangs to her forehead. It had also made her thin shirt and sweatshirt stick to her chest. Her jeans had fared no better from the mud.

And now her feet itched from the mud in her socks.

At least there was no transfer or feel to the rain. She couldn't imagine if there had been. Holly had no idea if her brain could handle going through knowing what happened to every water drop that hit her skin. The sheer magnitude was…well…yeah…

Holly dragged off the hood and dropped her suitcase on the hard wood floor.

Maybe she should have called ahead. The people that had come to the psychiatric ward to see her, Ororo Munroe and Charles Xavier, had coaxed Holly out of self imposed confinement. The promise of being around people who were just like her was tempting. A year of white walls and heavy doses of thorazine did tend to make a person consider thinking they were actually bonkers. Or was it politically correct to call them crazy now.

Call herself crazy.

Ha. Crazy.

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters could use her spectacular talents. They could teach her to use it and control it, etcetera. Holly just wanted to stop the intense nose bleeds that happened afterward. And the blacking out. The seizures. The agony. At the rate she was going dying of blood loss or cracking her skull open seemed to be her best options.

She wondered if anyone knew she was there.

Holly, not for the first time in her life, wished she had a watch. Or a cell phone. Something that told the time. But they didn't make clean cell phones. No one made clean cell phones. No one made clean anything these days.

Once again she wondered if she was born in the wrong era. Would it have been better to live back when people sewed their own clothes and she knew where her food came from? Would it have been easier to hide her particular, if not annoying, talent?

Probably not on the latter.

The psychiatrist that she had begged to lock her up and feed her drugs had at least been progressive. He had given her the thorazine and other fantastic drugs that made her head feel lighter than air so she could sleep in a clean room that wasn't so clean. Holly was beginning to miss her clean room as she dragged her rolling suitcase – carry on sized for comfort and convenience – down a hall.

The door across the hall from her opened. Holly whirled, evergreen eyes wide as saucers, her free hand clenched tightly, automatically, into a fist. Ororo Munroe, also known as Storm (the irony of that did not escape Holly) stood in the doorway.

The white haired woman's face brightened. "Holly," then the smile died a little around the edges when the older woman took in Holly's appearance. "Did you walk here?"

Holly's smile was rueful, "Just about." She yanked at her shirt and hooded jacket. They made a pitiful sucking sound as they released from her skin.

"Do you want to go to your room first? Take a hot shower and then you can come back down and…" Storm's voice trailed off. "We did send someone to pick you up at the train station. Logan must have missed you."

Holly shrugged, "I've lived through worse." A hot shower sounded good and clean clothes. Literally clean. Not just free of transfer and memory. Though that would have been nice too. Holly brushed the back of her hand across her forehead. Her mouth pressed into a thin line. "Actually a shower sounds good."

Storm's smile returned, though not in full force. She stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. The older woman motioned for Holly to walk with her. "There are stairs at the end of this hall that lead up to the teacher's wing. There aren't many teachers here besides myself, and a few others."

They started up the stairs. "I assume," Storm continued, "that you are still willing to take up teaching English and manage the Library?"

Holly nodded, tugging her carry on suitcase up the stairs, "Show me to the class room and hand me a reading list."

"Good," Storm replied. They reached the landing. "You have the room across from one of our newer teachers, Kurt. The room on your right belongs to a guest, Warren, and the one on your left is occupied by the Logan. The two rooms diagonally are unoccupied right now. I'm a little further down the hall."

Holly nodded. Storm opened the door for her. Holly stepped in. The room was sort of Spartan in its lack of furnishings. There was a closet against the wall and a full sized bed in the middle of the room. A dresser stood across from the bed with a matching square mirror above it. A couple of lamps, one decorative framed painting. An out of place, lonely looking water glass. A window with a paper shade.

Interesting.

"I'm afraid our only negative can't wipe items by touch." Storm told her. "The sheets are new, though I'm not sure they're as clean as you need."

"As long as no one has died on them I think I'll be fine." Holly smiled ruefully and put her rolling carry on up on the bed. "Thank you Ororo."

"You're welcome. Come down when you're ready." Then the door was closed and the sound of boot heels on the ground receded down the hall until it faded completely.

Holly Harper, touch-know extraordinaire and tactile post-cognate sighed a low, long suffering sigh. She cast her gaze about the room. Her room. Her room in her new home.

**Fan** - _ freaking- _ **tastic** .

* * *

**Chapter 2: **

These Walls - Trapt

Ugly Side - Blue October

Come Undone - Duran Duran

* * *

If she had believed in some sort of God then she might have thanked him or her for making her power immune to elements, specifically water. And most things that were machine made. Holly towel dried her hair with her own towel. It had taken a few minutes to unpack her own hair and body towels, but in the interest of staying upright she'd taken the time.

The shower had put her in a better mood. Not that cranky wasn't an almost constant status since coming out of the drug induced haze the psychiatric ward at Mayfair General. She made a mental note to call and check on Gracie, one of the younger nurses that had been open about her own mutation, and let the other woman know there was a place like this.

The leather thong went back into her hair once it was damp and braided in a medium length dark brown tail down her back. She looked into the mirror. A familiar stranger looked back at her. She had the same deep forest green eyes that had made her mother named her Holly instead of Hannah. Her hair was the same dark and wavy hair that frizzed on humid days when she was a child. Her face was still the heart shape with an odd nose and chin that didn't appear on anyone in her known family.

But, as much as it was familiar, her face was just as foreign. There were deep purple-black circles under her eyes and her skin had taken on a permanently pale color when she stopped going outside. The woman in the mirror wasn't the happy girl she had once been. The Holly Harper in the mirror looked haunted and too old to be twenty eight.

She smoothed the dark fringe of bangs so they weren't so much in her eyes anymore and then went to pick up an old hoodie. Holly pulled the door open, stepped out, closed it behind her and smacked face first into a wall.

He was huge, he was burly and his chest was like a steel wall. If there hadn't been a shirt between her nose and his chest Holly would have gone down like a drunken Girls Gone Wild chick at Mardi Gras. A pair of fairly large, also steel bound, hands clamped on her shoulders to steady her.

"You okay kid?" The owner of said large hands asked after Holly had been steadied and the hands retracted.

Holly rubbed at her nose checking to make sure it was still intact and not bleeding. It would be fan-freaking-tastic if she could blame a real nose bleed on something other than her whacked out powers. Her nose tingled a bit, felt a little numb – which she attributed to the shock of impact – but otherwise it was fine.

"Yes," She rubbed her nose again with the tips of her gloved fingers. A little feeling came back. She might have a decent bruise there later. Might. Holly looked up at the man-whose-parts-were-possibly-made-of-steel. "Sorry. I'm not usually unaware of my surroundings."

He was big to her average height. At least six foot two, probably closer to six three and didn't look quite as burly as she had thought. Hell yes he was muscled, but unless it was hidden by his shirt and leather jacket, he wasn't that wide.

"Thanks for keeping me from falling," she said to him with a half smile. She went around him then stopped, "Nice beard," and then Holly proceeded down the hall to the stairs.

"We have some students that live on campus year round," the Professor Charles Xavier told her as they exited a fairly well disguised elevator. He was one of those almost elderly gentlemen, borderline handsome with a slight British accent. He rode in a wheelchair and was almost as pasty white as she was. "The school year begins on the next Monday," they turned down the hall at the top of the stairs, "The library and your class room are here."

It wasn't nearly as big as the public library she'd grown up with out in Merrick. It was a big, bigger than the school libraries she had access to when she'd still gone to school. Though, truthfully, it didn't hold a candle to her college's library. A whole building, nearly a full city block, filled with books.

Holly made a mental note to go down to Manhattan on a day off.

Not that she was a bookworm. Surprisingly, even though she had a degree in English, Holly was insanely good at math and science. Her mother had been the gateway to her love of reading and of art. Though her mother, or her mother's death, wasn't the catalyst that forced her into an English degree. It had been her power. Math and science would require going to a degree that involved a lot of group studying and interaction with people

A degree in English Literature did not.

Holly thumbed a book left on the desk that posed as the checkout counter. It had a decent sized flat screen computer monitor was set up on it, and a mini tower hummed softly somewhere under it. There was another smaller set of computers set at some flat tables in the far corner.

"I'm guessing that I should use photocopies," Holly said, dark eyes tracing over the copier behind the desk. "And lecture."

"That would entirely be your choice," Professor Xavier told her.

Her class room was somewhat like a small lecture hall. Long curved tables facing around a center chalk board and smaller desk. Her desk she supposed. There was a set of tall, thin bookshelves stacked from ceiling to floor with text books on the far wall. The right wall had a long clear plastic window facing into the library.

"The last teacher," Holly asked as her fingertips traced patterns absently on the closest desk, "what were they teaching?"

"I believe the last year was spent on the Greek tragedies and comedies."

Well that certainly killed her lesson plan for the year.

"Unfortunately we are understaffed at the moment," the Professor continued as he escorted her back out of the room. "Would you like to meet the rest of the staff?"

He asked like she even had a choice. She gave him a wry smile.

As it turned out saying the school was understaffed was an understatement. The entire staff consisted of six people. Six if she included herself that is.

Professor Xavier taught both mutant ethics, and physics for the advanced science class. Ororo Munroe, who insisted on being called Storm, taught biology for the less advanced science and had been teaching the previous English class. There was Kurt Wagner; a blue individual with a thick German accent and a prehensile tail that taught math and history. Then there was Piotr, the Russian who taught shop and art. There was also the burly guy who she'd smacked into before. Logan no last name. He taught a basic gym class and had been handling study hall.

As it turned out he was the guy that was supposed to pick her up from the train station.

"How's your nose kid?" He asked gruffly, arms crossed over his chest.

She rubbed it, "Intact. How's your chest?"

"Dented," he replied with a crooked, cocky smirk.

She highly doubted that. "The other teachers," because there had to have been other teachers. Who had been handling her classes before her? "What happened to them?"

"Scott and Jean died," Storm said it with such finality that for a moment Holly contemplated going back to her clean room. There was a story there she wasn't sure she wanted to hear. Or be dragged into.

Instead Holly nodded, "Alright."

And that, as they say, was that.

A long time ago Holly had figured out that when she stayed away from people, they usually got the hint to stay away from her. Whether that was a conscious or unconscious decision on their part she would never really know. It was just a given. Someone had to obstinately sociable, annoyingly persistent or just plain oblivious not to get it.

So it didn't surprise her much when the students coming to ask her questions at lunch time stopped after the first month at Xavier's School. The other teachers, Kurt being the most determined to make friends, eventually stopped trying to include her. One month and seventeen days after the start of the school year, Holly sat behind the library's check out desk eating a salad and drinking plain old water.

Two months and seventeen days without an incident while she was on that train of thought.

There was a soft feminine giggle followed by a low male chortle. A teenage couple sat at a small table talking in low tones, their fingers intertwined. Their books were open and ignored. He pressed a quick to her lips.

Holly turned her head half feeling like a voyeur.

A book set down on the book return by a gloved hand. Holly looked up. The girl had a slightly rounded face and two streaks of pure white hair in front of a mane of dark brown. "Hi," her accent obscured the word so that it sounded more like the Japanese 'hai'. She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes straying to the side but her head didn't turn. "Ah'd like to renew this."

The couple at the table had stopped.

"Sure," Holly said feeling quite a bit like she'd just been dropped in the middle of what could be a really, really uncomfortable scene. She took up the book, "Name?"

"Marie," the teenager said, her voice quavering just a little, "Marie D'Ancanto."

There was shuffling and then the couple were moving past the check in desk. "Hi Rogue," the boy said.

The girl with the white streaks didn't move more than to just tilt her head slightly, "Hi Bobby."

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. "I'll…I'll see you around, okay?"

"See ya," the girl said unsteadily. The tears didn't start until 'Bobby' was out the door with the other girl. Marie, or was it Rogue? Stood there, dark eyes full to the brim with tears.

God damn it.

God freaking damn it.

Holly reached to the side of the desk and grabbed a tissue from the Kleenex box. She held it out, and with that simple act of human kindness kissed away her vow to keep to herself. "Here," she said.

"Thank you," Marie said through quite sobs. She wiped at her damp eyes, sniffling and breathing erratically. "Ah'm sorry Miss Harper, ah didn't mean to…"

Oh… "You're in my third hour class."

Marie wore a sad, but slightly guilty smile, "Yeah."

"Pull up a chair," Holly said while she closed out the program she had opened to renew the book. She set the book aside while Marie came around the check out desk with a chair. Her sobs had slowed, but her eyes were puffy and her nose was red. She dabbed at her nose with the soaked tissue.

Holly pointed at the garbage can at the end of the desk, "Toss it and get a new one."

Marie did so, wiping at her nose with a clean tissue.

"Ex boyfriend or guy you used to have a thing with?"

"Aren't," Marie said with a soft stuttering breath, "They the same thing?"

Holly smiled wryly, "No."

"Oh," The younger woman said with a deep breath, "Ex boyfriend."

Don't ask. Don't ask. Don't ask. "Bad break up?" God damn it.

"No…not really…" Marie murmured. She tossed the second tissue in the garbage as well. "It was going to happen anyway but…" she sighed faintly. "After the cure wore off…" she shrugged, "didn't take much time for Bobby and me to break up."

Holly barely breathed, "You took the cure?"

Marie was reaching for another tissue as she nodded, "It didn't last." Her smile was watery and embarrassed, "they never told us it wouldn't last."

Of course not. Of course they didn't say it.

Because the cure didn't alter people on a genetic level to get rid of mutation.

Handing mutants a cure for a cell-based, chromosomal mutation…

It was like giving away a flu shot for an Ebola pandemic.

Not that a teenage girl would know that, Holly had to remind herself. Marie probably never took a class in organic chemistry or genetics. Holly's inner science nerd was rearing its ugly head. She silently thanked her father for her brain and her grandfather for her common sense.

It took a moment for the sympathy to filter onto her face, but she wasn't sure it reached her eyes, "What's your mutation?"

"Ah absorb other mutants powers," Marie sighed heavily, "If ah hold on too long ah could kill them."

This time the sympathy reached Holly's gaze, "You can't touch anyone either?"

Marie blinked for a moment and looked at her English teacher. Her eyes cast about at the older woman's clothing. It was suddenly like she hadn't ever seen her teacher before. Head to toe. The older woman was covered in clothing from  _ head _ to  _ toe _ .

Rogue sucked in an unsteady breath, "You absorb powers too?"

Holly shook her head, tendrils of dark brown hair, darker than Rogue's followed the movement sluggishly. "I absorb the memories of a person or object. I pick up people's emotions or thoughts on touch." She held up one leather glove, "Everything hurts." Holly told her. "All the time."

* * *

**Chapter 3: **

Everything to Everyone - Everclear

Ugly - The Exies

Duvet - Boa

Eyes on Fire - Blue Foundation

* * *

Poof. Blue smoke.

There was suddenly a blue, tattooed, trench coat wearing male with a tail perched on the bench beside her. He looked down at her, smiling a wide – at least in Holly's opinion – much too cheerful smile. "Guten tag fraulein," Kurt Wagner, who didn't mind being called Nightcrawler said. He had a book in hand, a big book, and the spine read Shakespeare's collected plays.

Holly didn't betray a single movement. She turned the page of the fourth essay she was grading. It belonged to a boy whose name was Jimmy but signed his papers Leech. "What can I do for you Kurt?"

"Did you know," he said through his thick accent, "that I was in the circus?"

She refrained from rolling her eyes heavenward, "I assumed that when you said the Munich Circus called you Nightcrawler."

"Ah," he seemed a little disappointed, "yes. Forgive me. I forget sometimes."

No. Really? Shucks. Holly flipped to the third page of the essay, "Did you want something else?"

"I have had an idea," he continued, his accent adjusted the words to make them sound far more interesting than they actually were. "That I have discussed with the professor. A dramatics class." He even added a small bounce to the end of the sentence.

"And how does that involve telling me?" She finished reading the ending paragraph where Jimmy argued that Frank Herbert's Dune was superior to the following books Children of Dune and Dune Messiah. Holly put an A minus at the top of the paper once she flipped it closed. Minus because he fudged the page requirements by making it a 12.5 font.

When Kurt didn't answer, Holly looked up against better judgment. He was looking at her expectantly. There was a glint in his yellow eyes. His smile was much, much too cheerful. The idea dawned in her head as the look he wore became not just excited but downright… ecstatic.

"No." She grabbed her papers and tossed away the rock she had been using to hold them down. "No Kurt."

He was frowning deeply, a crease formed between his brows, "Warum nicht?"

"I know two languages Kurt, English and bad English," Holly said with a huff. She started across the courtyard, closely followed by a persistent German teleporter.

"Forgive me," he said, attempting to speed walk with her, "Why would you not like to participate?"

Oh she could think of a few reasons. Number one getting attached to the people here. "Because," she felt a little childish saying it like that, but really, who was he to ask?

There was another poof from slightly behind her and another one a split second later in front of her. Her nose almost smacked into his shoulder. Holly stopped and glowered at him. If only looks could kill. "What is it with you?"

"I think that a dramatics class would be an excellent addition. The Professor agrees. Many of the students have no…" he searched for the word, "aptitude for art. A dramatics class would provide an alternative."

"Again, no. Not interested." She went around him.

"You are the English teacher," He said as he popped once more into existence at her side.

"Oh for the love of…" don't strangle the pacifist. Do not strangle the pacifist. "What does that matter?" She yanked open one of the doors, deliberately trying to get him to smash his face into it. Instead he disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke just to the right and behind her to appear inside the hallway.

Do. Not. Strangle. The. Pacifist.

"Again," Holly said with far more composure than she thought she even knew how to hold, "No. Now get out of my way."

Maybe it was something in her countenance. Or maybe the Professor had telepathically communicated to Kurt how close he was to getting a broken nose. Either way he moved and murmured an apology. "I will not disturb you again fraulein." Navy blue smoke and he was gone.

Then someone was laughing. A low, deep chuckle. That was when Holly noticed there was still smoke in the hallway, though it wasn't the dark navy color that belonged to Kurt. It was whitish blue and smelled like her grandfather's cigars.

One of the other teachers, Logan no last name, came out from behind the corner of the hall. He had a cigar in the corner of his mouth.

With a huff, "So glad I entertain you."

He was looking at her with a cocky quirk of the lips, "Yer oblivious aren't you kid?"

"To?" Holly asked.

"He's got a thing for you." He said with a pointed look.

Holly scowled at him.

Damn it.

In her head the conversation went one of three ways. The first being that she apologized to Kurt for beings so…well…curt, and then explained that she wasn't good with people and that he was better off finding someone else to help him teach the drama class. The second was that she again apologized, told him flat out that she wasn't a very nice person and then ask that he please leave her alone. The third being that after the initial apology and an explanation of some sort she would have to demonstrate why she preferred staying away from people.

That one was a last resort. She wanted to keep her nearly three month streak intact.

It was a self preservation thing.

Some days it was irritating to know she was still, in essence, human.

A gutless wonder human at that. Holly had been planning to stop Kurt in the hall or knock on his door and work out one of the conversations she had imagined. In the end though she wrote it all out, put it in an envelope and shoved it under his door around one in the morning. Then, like the chicken shit she was, she didn't go back to her room.

Holly headed down to the communal kitchen where the good junk food was. After she'd spent a good twenty minutes searching for machine made high carbohydrate food with absolutely no nutritional value she ventured in search of a television set. The main lounge was occupied by a boy from her fifth hour class that, as he told her, didn't sleep.

That left the teacher's lounge. The television was smaller, but it would do the job.

It was blessedly empty when she got there.

She ducked back into her room and grabbed a somewhat ironic movie then returned to the lounge and put it in the player. She grabbed the universal control, flipped off the lights and just as she was turning on the television and waiting for the movie to load there were footsteps in the hall. Holly tensed up, half expecting Kurt to poof into existence on the couch next to her. When that didn't happen she relaxed a little.

"It's nearly two in the morning," a sleepy, deep and somewhat berating male voice said.

Holly, who had tried to sink into the couch in the darkness, sighed. She straightened up and winced when Logan turned on the lights. It looked like it took him a second to deal with the adjustment too. He was glaring at her from the arched doorway, hair tousled, white t-shirt tucked into black sweats that hung low on really well defined-

"Can't sleep," She said shoving a, thankfully machine made, cheese dorito into her mouth.

"Yeah," he said gruffly, "I figured that."

"Sorry I woke you," Holly apologized, not really meaning it. Platitudes were a must if you were going to pretend to be nice. It was Saturday tomorrow anyway. She dropped the sound to almost nothing, hit the play button and waited for him to turn the light back out.

She did not, however, expect him to drop onto the other end of the couch and grab the DVD case. It took a lot of self control not to jump in surprise. Her eyes slanted to him as the credits rolled.

"You old enough to watch this?" He asked.

Holly turned her head, blinking at him with large green eyes. "You're not old enough to sound like my dad."

He laughed a low odd sounding laugh under his breath and set the case back down on the wood and glass coffee table. Then he got up and hit the lights. Much to her irritation he sat back down instead of leaving. Logan stretched out, putting sock encased feet up on the coffee table and one surprisingly long arm along the back of the couch. The rather large, almost four person couch, suddenly felt one hell of a lot smaller.

Holly crammed herself into the corner of the couch. She drew her knees up against her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs and attempted to be small. Very, very small.

Somewhere around the point that Mickey Rourke had Kim Basinger up against an alley wall, Holly's face was burning. She was very, very,  _ very _ happy the room was dark. Honestly she knew she should have changed out the movie when he decided to share her impromptu late night movie but it was her favorite movie.

And she hadn't seen it in over a year.

The people at Mayfair General were not okay with borderline porn. Or the unhealthy relationship that John and Elizabeth shared. Personal televisions or personal DVD players weren't really allowed in the clean rooms.

Something occurred to her. The sound was so low that he might not have been able to hear it. She waited until a decidedly unsexy scene to ask. "Can you hear it okay?"

In the dark he pointed to his head, "Super hearing."

Oh. Well that…oh…wait…did that mean he had other super senses? Logically that made sense. So then he could probably tell that she was blushing redder than a tomato or that… A whole new flush of red and embarrassment heated her face.

"What about you?" He asked and she swore he was almost laughing at her.

Holly bit down on her lower lip until she tasted blood. "I don't need to hear it. I know every line by heart," she said honestly in a soft and somewhat guilty voice. She shot him a watery smile in the darkness, "I love this movie." Then she shoved herself further into the couch until it creaked under the pressure and resumed making herself small.

"Would you please come back by the time I count to fifty?" Holly whispered in unison with Mickey Rourke. There were tears in her eyes and she was trying very hard not to cry. She had relaxed into the couch a little. The screen flashed back and forth between the two actors. Elizabeth McGraw walking tear stained and alone through a crowd of people. John pacing back and forth as his fingers touched the wall. Silently counting to fifty.

He hit fifty, the doorway was empty and the door was closed. The screen went to black.

Red credits rolled on a black screen.

Holly wiped at her damp but not completely tear filled eyes with the sleeves of her well worn hoodie. She had to uncurl herself from the couch to grab the remote from the coffee table. When she turned to ask Logan to turn on the lights he was gone.

In the spirit of screwed up romances, the next reading Holly assigned was the House of Night saga. On several levels Holly was glad the Professor was a progressive teacher. He, like she did, thought that if it got them to read and it got them interested in reading, then it did the job. Other people would have flipped over assigning books about vampires that wasn't Dracula.

Nothing against Brahm Stoker, but he was a little dry.

Actually…speaking of vampires… Holly made a mental note to add the Twilight Saga to the year's reading list. At the rate her students were plowing through the readings they would be on Douglas Adam and Arthur Dent by mid December. That would probably last until February or March. Maybe she'd assign the students to watch the movie over break. Or have them watch the SciFi channel's Dune and Children of Dune with the stipulation that anyone that wrote a short comparison paper on the movies would get an extra two points on their final.

Holly paused after she put one of the library books back on the shelf. She was suddenly very aware of how into the teaching gig she'd gotten. She was also aware that she was getting used to it…attached to it. And she was really beginning to like her students.

Speaking of her students. Holly listened for the sound of her new Librarian's Aide, Rogue had made the title up on her own. The girl wasn't a bookworm, she wasn't even into reading more than she had to for class. Helping Holly out in the library was as good a way as any to stay out of her ex boyfriend and his new girlfriend's way. Holly took the help.

Rogue was still shelving books. It was taking her awhile to learn the dewey decimal system.

"I was thinking," Holly said to the younger woman, "of asking the Professor if you could stay on as my teaching assistant after you graduate in December."

Rogue, who had been trying to figure out if .191 or .192 went right to left or left to right stilled in her movements. She turned her head to face her teacher, "But you don't need a teaching assistant Miss Harper."

Holly shrugged, "I'm not big on the extra help and some of the students need it. There are the younger students who get here and they are nowhere near the reading level I'm teaching at."

Rogue looked down at the books she was holding.

"Did you change your mind about college?" Holly asked.

"No," Rogue said slowly, "Ah don't want to go."

"Did you want your own class then? Kurt tried to talk me into helping him teach a drama class, but I'm not big on acting or…" Holly's voice trailed off. Rogue still wasn't looking at her. Holly put a gloved hand on Rogue's shoulder, "What's wrong?"

"Ah," Rogue started, then stopped and closed her mouth. "Ah was wondering where ah was going to go when ah graduated." She concluded after a few moments.

"But what about the X-Men," Holly said, "You're still on the team aren't you?"

Rogue shrugged, "Ah'm sorta useless, hand to hand combat and all." She put the two books on the shelf finally, "Sometimes ah wish ah had a more active power."

"It sucks having to try to get in for the close range shot," Holly told her. She knew the feeling.

* * *

**Chapter 4: **

Girl's Not Grey - AFI

Don't Fear the Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult

I Miss You - Blink 182

The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot - Brand New

* * *

Kurt got his drama class with Rogue as his teaching assistant and then the co-teacher once she graduated in December. It was still October though. October thirty first to be exact. Halloween had fallen on a Saturday this year and the students were overjoyed. They couldn't go out trick or treating, but the Professor and the rest of the staff held an annual Halloween party.

In Holly's opinion it was more of a school dance. As one of the staff she had to chaperone and help decorate. She'd spent the afternoon blowing up black and orange balloons – with an air pump – and tied them to strings which Piotr or Logan took and hung crisscrossing above the grassy area just off the basketball court.

"Holly," Storm said, approaching with several stuffed bags. She handed them off to the shorter woman, "Can you fill up some of the bowls on the buffet tables with these?"

Holly opened one bag and promptly gawked at the candy. Sure there were apples too but holy crap. That was a lot of candy. She took one large bag of apples out and raised an eyebrow at Storm, "Bobbing for apples or candied apples?"

Storm's smile was bright, "Both. There's another bag in my car."

By six thirty that night Holly was imagining that this was what Charlie Bucket must have felt like when Willy Wonka opened the factory doors. She tugged at her costume, annoyed that she'd measured the cloth wrong and hadn't had enough left to cover her wrists. Not that it mattered. She was a chaperone and fairly anti-social.

No one was going to try to dance with her. Oh well. At least she wasn't the only one dressing up in a costume tonight. Storm was dressed as Cat Woman. Piotr was a Viking. Someone was dressed like Rorschach. A few students had costumes from various anime characters, the rest were dressed in the classic costumes. A few witches, one mummy, a little red riding hood, a little Bo Peep with a stuffed sheep under her arm, a prince charming, a ghost, Superman, Dracula, V accompanied by Evie, Hawaiian Barbie, a few boys dressed as the Rat Pack, a Harry Potter and…

Wow.

Rogue waved to her. She sported Zöe's Goddess tattoos from House of Night. Jimmy, who was dancing with her was wearing a Phantom of the Opera mask, cloak and what looked like a black tux.

A student in a gorilla costume dance past her.

"I thought the party didn't start until seven," Holly almost had to shout at Storm.

Storm was putting out the buffet trays, "It's going to rain later tonight. I thought it was better to start the party now."

Instead of keeping the skies clear herself. Holly almost laughed. Almost.

She help put the food into the burner trays.

"Logan," Storm called the uncostumed man over. She tossed him a box of matches, "Light the citronella candles or we're going to be swarmed."

There was always a price to pay for Indian summers and in the state of New York, it was mosquitoes. The food was out, the candles were lit, tacky tiki torches were fired up, the kids were bobbing for apples, dancing or eating and even the Professor had come out with Doctor MacTaggert to the teacher's table.

"Want to dance?" Piotr asked.

Holly shook her head, "No thanks Pete. I suck at dancing."

"So do I," he replied but let it go.

There was a definite shortage of female teachers. That was the second time she'd been asked to dance. Holly looked down at her costume, Alice in Wonderland though she had to fudge with the sleeves of the costume and the gloves. It certainly wasn't the costume getting her asked, that was for certain.

"Miss Harper," Jimmy said when he and Rogue stopped at the drinks table to grab sodas, "you look awesome."

Okay, maybe it was the costume.

Holly gave him a smile, "Thanks Jimmy. I love your costume."

His eyes lit up, "Thanks! I keep getting asked who I am."

She made a mental note to include the book Phantom of the Opera as one of the reading assignments. It would be slotted in before Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker series. In the spirit of screwed up romances that was one for the record books. She told the two teenagers to have fun when they'd grabbed their drinks.

"Nice get up," Logan said.

Holly nearly jumped. He hadn't spoken a word to her since he'd invited himself to her viewing of Nine and a Half Weeks. She'd had several sleepless nights in the past two weeks without him bothering her once. Maybe he'd learned his lesson.

"Thanks," she replied and sipped at her paper cup of water.

Then he went silent and watched the kids, but he hadn't moved away. He waited until she had a mouth full of water, "Wanna dance?"

Holly sputtered and nearly spit her water out. He slapped her back when she made a choking sound, not hard but damn it was shocking enough to get her to suck in air. Holly blinked at him, set her cup down, "Um…what?"

He did not look happy to have to say it again, but he removed the cigar from his mouth, "Dance."

If anyone had asked her previously if she had thought that he danced she would have said no. It was very, very strange thought. He looked sort of…well… Aside from Johnny Depp in Cry Baby and Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing, Holly didn't think bad boys – which Logan obviously was – danced.

"I can't dance," Holly replied after a minute. It was a ridiculously outrageous lie. Her grandfather had made her take dance lessons at the officer's club for years until her mutation developed. But he wasn't going to know that. She went to sip her drink again, and then thought better of it. "Sorry."

If he suspected she was lying he didn't say anything. He did give her a skeptical look, but he didn't move away like Pete had. He just seemed to hang out like he was waiting for her to go back on her decision.

Yeah, because that was  _ so _ going to happen.

Holly went back to watching the students. Eventually he'd get tired of hanging out near her and go away. That was what she was thinking when she saw it coming. An awkward and oversized boy knocked into another boy, tall and blonde. Tall and blonde boy side stepped to avoid any further contact or the chance at getting knocked down. His stepping away forced the girl that had been waiting near him to move.

It was sort of like watching dominos.

The succession of events ended the way Holly had known it would. To avoid being knocked into Logan moved. His hand brushed against the gap between Holly's gloves and shirt.

It was a one in a million shot in the dark. The contact lasted less than a few seconds.

Holly's eyes rolled back into her head. The convulsions started. Her nose leaked red streaking blood that ran down across her lips, onto her cheeks, past her jaw, and hit the floor. Her costume's white apron was crimson with it.

As always Holly had no actual sense of any of this.

Instead her mind flooded with a myriad of his life. Her head pounded with it. There was too much. Too much memory for someone that looked to only be in his mid thirties. Too much transfer. Too much feel.

It took forever for the black to set in.

* * *

**Chapter 5: **

Over My Head - The Fray

Notice - Gomez

Rest in Pieces - Saliva

Machine Head - Bush

* * *

It was the beeping sound that woke her up. Not that she wasn't used to waking up to it. It happened a lot when she was a teenager. The hospital staff in the town where she'd grown up had called child services because of the nose bleeds. The constant god damn nose bleeds.

She had gotten to know some nurses by name.

Kids at home hadn't taken the long shirts that met her gloves and the jeans with an under layer of leggings as a sign not to go near her. They instead saw it as a challenge. A game came of it eventually. How many people could snag a touch on the freak's skin before she passed out.

She had a few scars from smacking into walls and doors and once a cafeteria table.

The beeping was an all too familiar sound.

Not comforting at all.

She blinked her eyes, annoyed by the glare of the overhead, sterile lights. She sat up, feeling the IV pull against her arm and her old track marks pulled and itched slightly. Doctors always assumed she was a drug addict until they did her blood test.

Or, at least that was before she had put herself into a psychiatric ward.

Her head throbbed slowly as memories that weren't her own filtered and settled into her mind. Drugs. She missed the drugs and the orderlies that knew her name. The nurses that carried valium and antipsychotics that walked around in squeaky shoes never sounded so good before.

She missed the thorazine because it, over all, put a huge fucking dent in the pain.

"You're awake," the familiar brogue of Doctor MacTaggert said. Her smile was soft, but worried, "How are you feeling?"

"Nothing Vicodin can't fix," Holly said hoarsely, "or Codeine if you don't have Vicodin."

The older woman's smile turned a little grim, "Nothing that strong here I'm afraid."

Holly groaned.

"I might have some industrial strength Ibuprofen somewhere." Not that she went to get it. Doctor MacTaggert placed her stethoscope ear buds in her ears and pressed the cold steel against the back of Holly's shirt. "Breathe in."

The doors opened as the doctor had finished her exam.

"How are you feeling Holly?" The Professor asked.

Hanna laughed wryly, "You talked me out of my safe and mostly clean room, where they gave me drugs that," she motioned by making a wide circle around her head, "kept this crap under control. Then you convince me that you'll be able to help me learn to control it, or at least live with it without using the drugs."

"We can. I don't know what triggered the fit today, but I'm sure that we can work on it." He told her in an almost fatherly tone.

Aggravated, "Logan, James, Jimmy, whatever the hell he wants to call himself. He knocked into me." She pinched the bridge of her nose, breathed in and tried to focus on something other than the growing migraine thrumming its way through her skull. Her stomach was already queasy from the sweets and food from the party.

Flashes started behind her eyelids.

He's not your father.

Logan, my tolerance for your smoking in the mansion notwithstanding; continue smoking that in here and you'll spend the rest of your days under the belief that you're a six year old girl.

_ When they come out… _

_ Actually, I do. _

_ It's not what I'd like it to be. _

_ Hey, tin man, how's your throwing arm? _

_ You picked the wrong house bub. _

_ Fry him Storm. _

_ I want new ones. _

_ You never learn, do you? _

_ The best defense is a good offense. _

_ Girls flirt with the dangerous guy Logan, they don't take them home. _

_ I didn't call him blob I said bub. _

_ Finding the right powers to coexist in one body. _

_ Does it hurt? _

_ I heard the professor was mad at me. _

_ I could be a nice guy. _

_ Do you know her? _

Another thin scarlet line started to trail down over her lips.

His transfer was too much for someone his age. Holly blinked painfully against the way everything seemed to roll around inside her head. Someone was talking to her but for the life of her she couldn't seem to remember who. She couldn't hear what they were saying.

She swayed on the gurney.

This time the black settled in quickly.

Monday morning was a hangover and a half. The social leprosy wasn't as noticeable since she had distanced herself from day one. Her student's subdued questions were strictly on the text and not about the characters themselves. No one bothered her in the library.

It was blessedly silent in the library. The silence felt like a fresh, cool wind in her mind.

Holly blinked slowly trying to focus on not letting his transfer surface.

Whatever her power picked up with post-cognition was always stronger than the mind reading. It wasn't memories she picked up but pieces of the past. They were like a patchwork quilt, nothing quite matching up but all there clumping together. If she even tried to sort it out her brain would overload and another epileptic fit would take her down.

She knew the cure for it, but it wasn't an option Holly was willing to take. It just hurt too fucking much. Holly massaged her temples.

The Professor wanted her to come to his office at four, after classes had finished. He wanted to sort through Logan's transfer himself. Apparently Logan had no real memory of whatever the hell Holly's post-cognition had picked up. Even the Professor's telepathy hadn't been able to help Logan with it. Funny that Holly's self deprecating mutation was the one to glean the information with less than a few seconds of contact.

Rogue came through the Library's doors at exactly three fifty that afternoon. "How do you feel?"

Holly winced a little at the sound of the pity in Rogue's voice. She got up from the chair feeling every bit like her grandfather's arthritis was suddenly her arthritis. "Like I'm about seventy and I need a walker."

"Ah wonder if that's how old Logan is," Rogue said.

"I don't know," but that was a complete and utter lie. She saw him in at least three distinct wars. One being the First World War. One hundred years ago. Holly scrubbed a hand over her face, "No one's been in for a while. There are a couple of books coming due tomorrow if you want to fill out the notices and put them on their doors. Otherwise…" she shrugged.

"Okay," Rogue said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

On any other day Holly would have called the younger woman on it. But today she was tired. Bone achingly, soul emptying, hollowly lethargic. She could think of nothing that sounded better than going back to her room, curling up on her pillows and sleeping until the end of time.

Instead she was in Professor Xavier's office three minutes before four.

And so was Logan.

Everything in her screamed to keep her distance, and he seemed to have the same idea. Holly sat in the seat in front of the Professor's desk setting herself far to the right, pressing herself into the arm of the chair furthest from him. It felt a little like she was about to have the principal scold her for something that was not her fault. Logan only sat down after being told to by the Professor.

He sat in the seat next to her much the same way she had, carefully negotiating his body so that he wasn't within touching distance. "You look like crap kid." Logan said after a moment of silence.

Holly glared at him, "That happens when I get a hundred years of memories dumped into my brain."

He didn't blanch. He didn't even blink, which meant he had a clue how old he was.

"Logan's memory was destroyed approximately sixteen years ago," Professor Xavier said, pulling both of their attentions away. "Much of what he does remember is followed by gaps that span decades."

"I know," Holly said. She tapped her left temple, "Believe me I already know."

"I would like your permission, Holly to search through the transferred memories." Professor Xavier asked politely.

"They're not memories," Holly muttered. Post cognition transfer was nothing like a memory. It was like being an unwilling participant in living someone else's life. It was unpleasant and it hurt like a bitch every time. She called it memory because it felt like seeing it from the subject's point of view. "Fine, just don't touch me."

He didn't have to, but he came damn close to it.

Holly tried not to squirm while Xavier's hands hovered inches from the skin of her temples. She could distinctly feel the heat of his hands. One wrong move and she'd be on fluids again in the medical room. In the best interests of staying upright and breathing, Holly held very, very still and tried not to breathe.

Telling herself that he was a powerful psychic and that he could handle what was in her head didn't make it true. When the Professor's jaw clenched and his head gave an involuntary tick Holly shoved her chair back and away. Doctor MacTaggert, who had been present but quietly reading on couch was up and there when Professor Xavier came around.

"I told you," Holly hissed. A thin trail of blood dripped from her nose. She wiped at it with the back of her sleeve. "I told you when you came to Mayfair. I  _ told _ you!"

"You are correct Holly," The Professor said almost in a gasp. He took a few deep breaths sounding almost like he was lacking for air, "I am sorry that I didn't believe you."

"What?" Doctor MacTaggert asked. She crouched in front of the professor, "Charles?"

"I'm a class four for a reason," Holly replied cryptically. She had told him and Storm the reason she was in Mayfair when they had gone there in August to talk to her. The self incarceration was voluntary because she'd fried someone's brain. Not on purpose. He had been a weak psychic but he was a bully. He wanted to see how far he could get inside her head before she threw him out. He never made it out.

He was a vegetable now. He was living off tubes. Machines breathed for him.

Holly went for the office door, deciding that staying there would probably get someone's brain fried and it probably wouldn't be her own.

* * *

**Chapter 6: **

Short Skirt, Long Jacket - Cake

Why can't I fall in Love - Ivan Neville

Gimmie! Gimmie! Gimmie! (A Man After Midnight) - ABBA

Glycerin - Bush

* * *

If the nightmares she had as a result of Logan's past inside her head were any indication of his nightmares Holly had no clue how the man slept. She was up for the fourth night in a row, watching one of her own movies in the teacher's lounge. She lay curled up on the couch, her own pillow tucked against her head and one between her legs to make up for the lack of support provided by the couch springs.

This time he didn't flip on the light switch, "Can't sleep again?" Logan asked as he leaned on the wood of the door way.

Holly didn't spare him a glance, "The blood and death in your head isn't conducive to sleep."

Whether or not that pot shot bothered him he didn't say, "What are you watching?"

This time she did look at him, "Why?"

"I can't sleep," he said plainly, but there was an undertone.

"Pump up the Volume," She said, "No sex, no mind games, no innocent girls being seduced."

He laughed, it was a low and sarcastic sound, but it was a laugh. He walked into the room and found the movie's case without even turning on the light. Well that certainly answered the other super senses question. He set the case down, "Move yer feet."

Holly bit back the annoyed groan and curled up until her knees and pillow were nearly against her chest.

Logan reached over and grabbed the control and hit the menu button. He restarted the disc.

Her feet were cold and her calves were cramping before they were even half way through the movie. Well, she could remedy the cramps. Holly flexed her feet, hissing just a little at the relief. Rolling her ankle made the bone feel like it was grinding. The movie stopped.

Holly jerked and nearly sprang off the couch when he touched her leg.

"Jeez kid," he said in a half annoyed tone, "I wasn't gonna hurt ya."

Her fist clenched and unclenched, "I don't like being touched."

"Sorry," he replied and it sounded sincere. "I was just gonna help you out with the cramp." He held up his hands in innocence, "Honest."

It took a conscious effort to relax her hand. "Warn me next time." She sat back down with a slight limp. Springing up that fast had not been good for her leg. The pins and needles feeling went from irritating to actually painful.

He hit play again.

Holly set to digging her own fingers into her leg to fix the ache. Not that it worked.

The movie stopped again.

"Want help with that?" He asked.

Half frowning, half glaring, "Just don't touch my skin."

"Promise," He said.

She extended her leg and let him try. Her eyes closed when the cramping ache released after his decidedly talented fingers dug in. Whatever he did worked. Holly almost sighed with relief.

The movie kept going. He didn't release her leg after he was done, his thumbs kept circling, pressing, working out kinks she hadn't been aware of.

Christian Slater and Samantha Mathis were topless and dancing on screen. "I lied," Holly said, her voice cutting through the dark. "I can dance really well."

He didn't say anything. The only indication that he wasn't sleeping was that his hands had stopped their attention to her leg and were now still and resting on top of her calf.

"My grandfather was a Vietnam vet," Holly continued, "he made me take lessons at the officer's club for nearly six years before my mutation developed. Then he taught me himself." She laughed a little to herself, "You know, if I hadn't had this mutation, I probably could have won contests."

"Why are you telling me?" He asked. His voice was carefully neutral. Holly had a feeling that if the lights were on and she could see him that his face would be blank and his eyes would be hooded.

She shrugged, retracting her leg and suddenly missing the warmth he'd been radiating. "I've got an awful lot of your memories. I think you deserve one or two of mine."

"I'd rather have mine."

Holly looked down at the couch, her dark green eyes tracing the patterns in the gold and brown material, "If I could do it without frying your brain I'd give them all back."

"I'll regenerate," he said it as if it was such a plain idea. Easy as pie.

"No you won't." Holly told him. "It's permanent damage Logan. I've put a guy in the hospital because I flooded him." She looked at him in the darkness, "They feed him through a tube. Machines breathe for him."

Superior speed must have been part of his mutation package, because he was right there in the blink of an eye. Logan loomed large and fairly dangerous in the bluish white light of the television screen. It lit him from behind making him a frightening shadow in the darkness. He crouched slowly and Holly had to swallow the panicked squeal that bubbled in her throat.

The last time she'd been this close to anyone – anyone she was attracted to – was sixteen years ago. Joshua Clark, the cutest boy in school, kissing her in the closet during seven minutes in heaven. Holly shoved herself back into the couch until the springs and wood creaked under the pressure.

"Try it," he said. It sounded way too desperate.

"I won't fry you." She had meant it to sound like iron conviction. It came out wobbly.

"Try," Logan repeated with a lot more fervor.

"No." Holly said, "I won't do it."

Pissed was not a word that even came close to describing how he looked at that moment. Enraged. He looked enraged. It wasn't his memories in her head that made her fear him, it was the look in his eyes at that moment. Like he could have ripped her head off and it would have satisfied his rage.

God how many times had she thought about scenes like this in books she'd read. Movies she'd watched. Where the heroine of the story should have leaned in and kissed her angry lover instead of letting him remain furious with her. How many times had she wished to be exactly in that position so she could take advantage of being able to kiss an angry, handsome man?

Holly shook involuntarily for more reasons than one. No matter how scared of him she was, she was still ultimately attracted to him. And she couldn't do a goddamn thing about it.

His nostrils flared. Some of the angry heat left his eyes. He leaned in just a little, enough that he was close to breaching her personal space. Logan breathed in again smelling something on the air that she couldn't.

All five of his senses were superior to the average person, her brain reminded her. Which meant he could smell both pheromones  _ and _ fear. Both of which were rolling off her in waves. Both of which spelled his name backwards and forwards.

His eyes were refocusing in a way that didn't look all that much like anger any more.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Holly bolted. She scrambled up along the couch, jumped over the arm and sprinted out the arch that served as the doorway. Her heart thudded in her ears the entire three or four seconds it took to get to her door and open it She closed her door, throwing the lock into place. Logan could have caught her if he really wanted to, she knew that, but he didn't. She was so very, very glad that he didn't.

She also really, really wished he had.

* * *

**Chapter 7: **

Here's to the Night - Eve 6

Bullets - Editors

Tear Away - Drowning Pool

Missing - Evanescence

Going Under - Evanescence

* * *

Rogue squealed then clamped both her hands over her mouth. "Really?" She said after a few moments of muffled excited peals under brown satin gloves. Her dark eyes were alight with amusement, mischief and out and out joy. Rogue touched her throat, still stifling most of the giggles, "Oh Holly."

"I am so glad one of us is entertained," Holly muttered, "and since when do you call me by name?"

"Since you started treating me like more than a student," Rogue replied. Another fiendish giggle escaped her lips. "Ah can't believe it."

"I can," Holly glared halfheartedly at the younger woman, "You can't tell anyone."

"Who am I going to tell?" Rogue asked innocently. "Though I'm pretty sure Professor Xavier knows by now."

Holly groaned, "Fucking hell." She wanted to punch something. She settled for manhandling some of the new books that had arrived. The local library was delivering old copies of textbooks and novels to Xavier's school once they had their updated copies.

"Do you think he feels the same way?" Rogue asked in a soft voice as she helped Holly divide the delivered books into separate stacks by genera.

Holly shrugged, "I don't know. I know he's thought about me in nothing but panties before, but he's male. All men think about women they find attractive that way. They're men." She picked up a Stephen King book and set it in the two book horror pile.

"Do you think he would have kissed you?" Rogue asked, though this time her voice wasn't quite as quiet.

"I don't know." Holly said again. "He knows my mutation restricts skin to skin contact, so…no probably not."

"You could always do what they do in Pushing Daisies," Rogue reminded her. "Kissin' through saran wrap is still kissin'."

Holly refrained from rolling her eyes. The kisses they had on a television show wasn't the kind of kissing she wanted to do with Logan. That kind of kissing would have required a lot more protection on her part. Or a lot more touching to get used to him which was something she wasn't willing to risk doing.

She didn't want to take a dip in the blood and death he had in his head again anytime soon.

"Rogue," Holly called to the younger woman. "How many boxes were there downstairs?"

"Five," Rogue called back from the stacks.

Holly counted the boxes again. One. Two. Three. Four. Crap where was the fifth. She asked Rogue. There was another soft giggle. Holly had a sudden sinking feeling.

"Logan said he'd bring it up for me," Rogue told her.

Panic. That was the only word she had for the fight or flight instinct that sent Holly's pulse thudding. She called Rogue over and the younger girl wore a sheepish smile, "Ah'm sorry Holly, ah didn't know when he asked if he could help." She crossed her heart, "Ah swear."

The doors to the library seemed to open on cue.

He had the box on one shoulder, carrying it as if it weighed nothing at all. Super strength too. Well didn't he win the genetic lottery.

"Thanks Logan," Rogue said with a lot more oomph than she really needed to.

"Thanks," Holly said without looking at him. She grabbed the short stack of horror books and took them into the stacks. She didn't expect him to follow her.

"I think," he said calling her attention to his leaning form, "You and I need to talk."

Holly shook her head, "No we don't."

"I want to know." He said.

"And I won't fry your brain doing it so we're at an impasse," She replied. She shoved the last book into place. He took her elbow and turned her to face him.

"That isn't what I want to know." Logan told her. His mouth pressed into a thin line and he looked…frustrated. A little annoyed. A little angry. And somewhat confused, "I've been wanting to kiss you since you bumped into me in August."

Holly held her breath. She tried not to see him, "And?"

"I think you want me too," he said.

A fish can love a bird but where would they make their house? They couldn't. They couldn't make a house anywhere. She wasn't Cinderella, she didn't have a fairy godmother who was going to pop in with a grin and a giggle. There wasn't anyone that was going to hit her with a magic wand and say 'your mutation is fixed, have at him' and poof away in sparkles and light.

Things like that didn't happen in the real world.

In the real world you got to feel yourself falling for someone you couldn't have. Someone you couldn't even touch. Because, in the end, what was in his head, what was in his past, would kill you. You couldn't have what you wanted even if you just wanted to say yes.

Holly tried for making herself sound almost frosty, "I didn't hear a question there Logan."

His grip on her elbow flexed but he didn't pull away.

"Say you don't," he told her solemnly. There was almost a plea in it. "Say you don't want me too."

Holly pulled her arm from his grasp. "I'll write out as much of what I absorbed as I can." She went around him and he didn't stop her. "I'm not sure how they'll come out. A lot of them are still choppy." She left the stacks and this time he didn't follow.

Once she got started writing everything seemed to fit a bit better than it had in her head. Holly delivered handwritten pages to his door and left them outside every night. Whether or not he'd been reading them wasn't clear because she hadn't seen him to ask him. Not that she'd been trying to find him. Actually she'd been trying to stay out of his line of sight.

His conviction scared her.

By the end of November Holly had successfully avoided Logan for nearly three weeks.

_ Holly _ , Professor Xavier's voice echoed in her head, _ could you please come to my office? _

Why is it every time she went to his office she felt like she had done something wrong?

"Rogue," Holly called into the stacks, "I'm going to the Professor's office, I'll be back in a while."

"Okay!" The southern girl called back.

Upon entering the Professor's office a few minutes later her avoidance streak was broken. She schooled her face into a set mask of indifference, "You called me Professor?"

The look he shared with Logan before answering said much more than it was supposed to, "I understand that you have been informing Logan of his history."

Holly shrugged, "As much of it as I can piece together. A lot of it is still Swiss cheese."

"I need you to look in my head again," Logan said. The statement sounded a lot more neutral than it actually was.

"I've never seen the inside of your head," Holly snapped. "And I don't feel like having an epileptic fit just because you want your past back."

"Consider it a step in learning to control your mutation Holly," the Professor said in a calming tone. "If you can learn to control the flow into your mind then it may be possible to block it completely with enough practice."

Holly scowled darkly at the two of them. In theory it made sense, but it making sense just rubbed her nerves the wrong way. Getting used to Logan's transfer, his feel wasn't what bothered her. It was the thought of having to take a dip in the blood and death he had stored inside. There was an animal caged behind his eyes and when she touched him it was there, roiling and fighting to get out.

"Fine," she acquiesced after a few moments of silence. Holly sat in the chair facing Logan. His face, his eyes, were unreadable. Holly stripped off one leather glove. She reached out gingerly with her right hand. Her fingertips hovered just above the skin of his left cheek. "Anything you don't want me seeing," she said in a low whisper, "imagine a door and keep it behind the door."

Then her fingers connected with the skin above his beard.

It hurt a lot less than the first time. She was able to think and keep contact. For a moment she was looking back at herself from his eyes and seeing what she hadn't wanted to see. Even sitting here, watching her start to bleed he still wanted her. He wanted to gather her up in his arms and never let-

A steel door slammed in his head and all thoughts retracted.

Holly's arm convulsed, snapping in a sick cracking sound as her bones reacted the way the muscles pulled them. Holly shrieked in the agony of it. There was a wet popping sound and her shoulder sagged down.

Her shoulder had dislocated itself just to stop the flow.

Holly looked at Logan through the haze and vaguely she wondered why her vision was pink. Why would she be seeing pink? She didn't like the color pink. Okay, she liked pink in flowers and the sky. Since when was the professor's office made of steel and bright lights?

"The blood vessels in her eyes have broken," Doctor MacTaggert was there.

When did I end up on my back? Holly wondered through the haze.

"I need the room cleared," Doctor MacTaggert said.

Then the black set in and there wasn't anything else.

* * *

**Chapter 8: **

Stab My Back - The All American Rejects

Paper Thin Hymn - Anberlin

The Truth About Heaven - Armor For Sleep

* * *

The voice sounded aggravated but familiar, "You people should have known better." Holly woke from a cocoon of dreamless slumber to bright lights. Automatically she jerked her arm up to shield her eyes. "Nothing you can say is going to excuse this," the voice said.

Despite the slight rawness of her brain something told her to try to sit up. She struggled and failed miserably. Her body slumped back on the table with a thud.

"She's awake," that was the Professor's voice. "Go in Mister Harper."

"Pop pop?" her voice sounded soft and weaker than normal. Then he was there, her grandfather, wrinkled and worried. He put his cane aside and leaned heavily on his left leg, his good leg. He wore latex gloves and touched her forehead gingerly.

"You gave me a scare little bit," he said in that voice he only used for her. His sleeve was rolled up, and Holly saw the white gauze and the band aide holding it to his skin. Her brow creased.

"Pop," but her brain couldn't make her mouth form the words. Instead she reached out and touched the area.

"You needed blood little bit." His face was solemn and tired.

"How…" and her throat ached, "long?"

"You've been out two days."

Two days? Two whole days?

Holly nodded and closed her eyes again. Two days wasn't the worst she'd ever been out. Six days was her current winning streak. "Water," Holly murmured in a rough voice.

"After you sleep a little more little bit," He said distantly. His gloved fingers barely touched over her forehead again.

"Kay," Holly replied and dropped back into the darkness of unconsciousness.

Her grandfather was still there when she woke up again. Her head felt better. There were no pounding drums in her brain anymore. She sat up, her skin itching and tightening against the intravenous line. Her grandfather was asleep in a chair next to the gurney.

"He hasn't left your side," Doctor MacTaggert told her. "Can you sit up for me Holly?"

Holly nodded slowly. Her body ached as she pushed up. Her right arm felt sore and the shoulder tightened and pulled on its own accord. Every muscle, every inch of skin hurt. Even her bones felt like they'd been rattled and jostled by an earthquake. She felt wobbly like a lonely square of Jello left in the bowl.

Doctor MacTaggert went through the motions of a checkup. The flash of the pen light hurt Holly's eyes. "Several of the blood vessels in your eyes ruptured." Doctor MacTaggert explained gently.

"How much," Holly asked through a scratchy throat.

"How much what?" Doctor MacTaggert said through her brogue.

"Blood." Holly said, "How much did I lose? How much did pop donate?"

"You lost about two pints of blood," The older woman's voice was detached. "Your grandfather donated one pint of O negative and we had someone with your blood type on campus."

Holly blinked, "I'm…" god her throat hurt, "I'm not O negative. I'm A positive."

"O negative is the universal donor."

Oh…she knew that. Holly lifted her left arm and rubbed at her temple slowly. She had known that. "Who was the donor?"

"He is the only person on campus with an A positive blood type," Doctor MacTaggert dodged the question.

"Who?" Holly repeated with a little more conviction.

"I didn't think that a donation would hurt," the doctor skirted the question again. "I was right, which is actually quite helpful. His mutation allowed his blood to adapt to yours. I was beginning to fear that we would have to keep a store of O negative blood."

"Who?" This time it was a nearly a snarl.

"Logan," the older woman said too quickly. "The regenerative qualities in his blood helped you heal quite a bit faster than you would have. Your arm nearly broke when it slammed into Xavier's desk, now you have no sign of fracture." The woman rushed on. "The broken blood vessels in your eyes have completely healed. It's always preferable to obtain the exact blood type instead of using another blood type."

"After you almost killed her," Dale Harper snapped. The sixty seven year old man snatched his cane off the chair, and climbed to his feet. He ignored the doctor and focused moss colored green eyes on his granddaughter. "How do you feel little bit?"

Holly moved to shrug and found it hurt a lot less than it did when she woke up. She reached up and back to rub her shoulder muscle anyway. "Thirsty," Holly told her grandfather.

"I'll get some water," Doctor MacTaggert said. The door to the room swished open then closed.

"I thought," Dale began with a berating intonation, "that you said these people could help you."

"I did say that pop pop." Holly murmured.

"They almost killed you," he told her flatly. Sternly.

"I know pop pop." She bowed her head a little; it felt better on her neck. He tipped her head back up. He pressed his latex covered her hand to her forehead and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. Holly smiled with cracked and dry lips. "Love you too."

"You should be happy your mother isn't alive to see this," He told her. "She would have killed someone and then she would have dragged you home."

Holly laughed under her breath, wincing at the way the air in her throat felt rough against the tender skin. It felt almost like she'd been screaming long and loud. "I know, and I bet she'd give Professor Xavier a piece of her mind."

He was laughing then, "Imagine that. Your mother giving a telepath a piece of her mind."

She nodded again, shutting her eyes to the slow ache in her body. She remembered the feel of her mother's lips against her forehead and the smell of her mother's skin and hair as she was hugged. Her mother skin always smelled of lilacs and jasmine, it was always soft, even with the scars. Her mother's hair was eucalyptus and long and soft and shiny.

The focus on something else helped the hurt.

The door swished again, opening.

"I heard you were awake," Logan's voice cut through the quiet moment between granddaughter and her grandfather.

Dale Harper nearly dropped his cane. "Holy Mary Mother of God…" he said his voice weak with wonder. "Jimmy? Lord, you…they shot you in front of a firing squad…I saw it. I saw them do it." He swallowed hard, "Victor isn't here, is he?"

Holly reached out and grabbed her grandfather's arm, "Pop, stop."

"You know me?" Logan asked.

"We served together in Vietnam," Dale told his former platoon mate. "You, me, Victor, Jack, Rick, Sal, Tree, Becks..."

Holly's hand on her grandfather squeezed, "Pop he doesn't remember. Someone wiped his memory." He looked at her, wrinkled and worn and…frightened. "He's a mutant like me pop. He's regenerative. He doesn't age like we do."

Dale's laugh was shaky, "I figured that much little bit."

Doctor MacTaggert came back with a bottle of water which Holly took gratefully. "Slowly," the doctor cautioned.

Holly nodded and sipped slowly. "Pop," she said to her shaken grandfather, "Why don't you go talk to Logan for a bit. I need to lie down again."

He looked at her again, confusion and worry written across wrinkles and time, "I'll stay with you little bit."

Holly smiled slowly through cracked lips, "Go pop, help him fill in some gaps. I'll be okay."

Her grandfather didn't look certain, but he did as she asked.

"Did you know?" Doctor MacTaggert asked her after the door closed.

"No," Holly lied. She set the water bottle down and settled back on the gurney. Sleep claimed her in moments.

"Your mother," Dale shook his head slowly, an odd little smile on his lips, "she would never have let you come here. She would have dragged you home and put some sense back into that head of yours."

Holly smiled at her grandfather, "But you understand why I have to stay, don't you?"

They sat at one of the benches facing the basketball court. It was almost noon three days after she had attempted to sort through and pull out the details of Logan's past. The students would be coming out any minute for the lunch break.

It was important that her grandfather see the kids. He had a love of children the way most people had a love of pets. If he hadn't devoted his whole life to his family he might have made a fair teacher himself. Instead he spent his life caring for his daughter and his granddaughter after his wife's death.

Dale Harper sighed and took his granddaughter's gloved hand. He looked distant for a moment, eyes darker than normal, less like moss and more like shaggy green carpeting. "I don't like it. Not one bit."

"We're all mutants here pop. All of us. And I like being a teacher." Holly squeezed his wrinkled hand, "I like being around my own kind."

"You like being around James." Her grandfather said with a small frustrated sound, "I don't like how he looks at you."

"You didn't like how my father looked at mom either." She reminded him.

Dale shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "And look where that got her. Fifteen and pregnant, three thousand miles from him and to this day he won't take a call from you or me. The letters were all returned." He gave an annoyed, angry huff, "The man has untold millions even after that fiasco and still…"

"Pop pop," Holly said with a warning, "your blood pressure."

"I know," he replied with another annoying sound. He breathed in deeply, relaxing into the sounds of the day, the birds and the rush of wind. It hadn't begun to snow yet, not surprising considering the Indian summer through the end of October. He breathed in again, "You really like it here don't you?"

"Yes, despite the blood loss and the nearly broken bones, I do."

Then the kids spilled out onto the basketball court. A couple of them shouted their hellos.

"Are they all your students?"

She was nodding, "I have three classes, one at third hour, fifth hour and seventh hour. About twenty students to a class."

He looked at her, "There's enough space here for that?"

Holly shrugged, "The Professor and Storm work with what they have."

"I don't like how he looks at you," Dale said after a few moments of silence.

"Deft change in subject grandpa."

He winced slightly. She hadn't called him grandpa since she was seven. "Little bit…"

"I know the argument," She told him. "I already argued with myself about it. I can't help how he feels about me. I can help how I feel about him."

"And that is?"

"None of your business."

Dale put his arm around his granddaughter and hugged her too him. His chin rested atop her hooded head. "All right little bit. All right."

* * *

**Chapter 9: **

One of a Kind - Placebo

Decode - Paramore

Get Over It - Ok Go

Come as you Are - Nirvana

Miserable - Lit

* * *

His motorcycle would have been faster than driving. Actually, going alone would have been faster, but then he wouldn't get any answers. Logan put his own duffle bag into the trunk of a car Storm had said was probably the best one for the drive. A black Toyota Carola with tinted windows and bullet proof glass. The white haired woman had also said there was a radio with a direct line to the Mansion and the Blackbird if they needed it.

Speaking of they.

He plucked the cigar from the side of his mouth as he turned to look for  _ her _ .

Holly hugged Rogue tightly.

"You call me," Rogue said softly, her accent drawing out the words so that me sounded more like meh, "if he starts being a jerk."

Holly huffed in slight annoyance and frustration, "I wish I could be here. I hate that I can't watch you graduate."

Rogue, frowned a bit, then shook her head and tried to smile, "It's fine Holly, really. There's going to be pictures."

"Hey kid," Logan called. Holly turned. "You coming?"

As if she had a real choice. He was going to British Columbia to find out what happened to his mother and rediscover some of his past. Professor Xavier had asked her to go with Logan because her power could have been useful.

And he wanted whatever bad blood had grown between Holly and Logan out the door by the time they got back. His teachers didn't have to get along but they did have to work together. Cohesion without glue.

One more hug then Holly was walking to the car. He was actually holding the trunk open as if it would close on its own. He held his hand out for her bag. She slung it into the trunk. The two pillows she had remained under one arm.

So it was going to be that kind of trip.

Logan slammed the trunk shut. He climbed into the driver's seat. Holly stood in the open door looking for all the world as if she was terrified of getting in the car. "Kid," Logan ground out.

Holly closed her eyes, took a deep breath and jumped into the car. She yanked the door closed. "Sorry." The buckle to her seat belt clicked.

The plan was to drive north to Canada and then across to Alberta. He was driving the whole way. They were going to sleep in the car or a motel. It would be nearly two weeks in the same car. He had a list of hospitals on the route they were taking to Alberta in the glove compartment.

Logan figured that he could drive maybe two days straight before they hit a motel.

"What are the pillows for?" he asked as she tossed them both into the backseat.

Holly looked at him, a look that asked 'are you serious?' and said he must have been nuts all at the same time. "I can't sleep on hotel pillows," she said slowly. "Unless you want to take me to a hospital and explain why I've lost a pint of blood."

Logan maneuvered the cigar to the right side of his mouth and set the car in gear.

They were eight hours out and his eyes were drooping from the boredom the drive was causing. "Kid," Logan said, readjusting in his seat for the umpteenth time. She didn't answer. He said it louder. Still she didn't answer. He reached over and shook her shoulder.

Holly jumped and yanked the IPod headphones from her ears. "What?"

He glared out the window instead of at her. "I need you to talk so I don't fall asleep."

"Oh," she frowned. Holly turned off the IPod and wrapped the silver and white object up. She shoved it unceremoniously into her jacket pocket. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. Think of something."

She chewed her lip, looking out at the softening sunlight. It was going to get dark soon. "You should look up Gambit when we get back. I'm sure he could help fill in a couple of gaps in your memory."

His brow creased. "The," Logan searched for the word, "Cajun?"

"He seemed interesting. You kind of liked him."

It was never going to not feel strange every time she told him something about his life before his memory gaps started. Being told how he felt was borderline irritating if not frustrating. "If you say so kid."

Holly let out something that sounded a lot like a growl. "Holly." She said. "Hol-ie. Holly. Not kid." She nearly kicked the car, "Jesus. You don't get to think about me in panties and then call me kid. Either I'm a woman or a child, pick one and stick with it." She reached into her jacket and pulled out the IPod again.

Logan opened his mouth to apologize, then closed his mouth again. He gave her a sidelong glance. His knuckles went white on the steering wheel. He stabbed the radio with a finger and searched for a station that wasn't pop-rock.

Holly jammed the headphones back in her ears and returned her gaze to the dying light of the sun and the darkening scenery of the passing landscape.

Holly rubbed at her eyes groggily with one hand. With the other she tucked her passport into her jacket's inside pocket. The light of the full moon lit the interior of the car decently despite the tint to the windows. Logan, having turned off the radio when they had reached the border, reached to turn it on again.

"Do you want to know why the moon looks so lonely?"

After hearing it for a while, he knew that tone of voice. That was the tone she used when she was remembering someone else's memories. Logan looked at her, sparing his glance from the dark, empty road for a few seconds.

"I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway."

Holly smiled a ghostly smile. She turned dark green eyes on him, his eyes remained on the road. "The moon had a lover once. His name was Kue Kohatsu."

Logan's brow creased. "It's a native American legend."

"I suppose. Kayla told you the story. She was native American."

Something in his chest constricted with guilt when he heard that name. Even though he didn't remember her or what she looked like, somewhere inside he knew her. His brain didn't remember her but something in him did. And it felt like guilt. Gut wrenching guilt.

He grimaced.

"Do you want me to go on?" Holly asked after a few beats of silence.

"Yeah," he said in a low, almost regretful tone, "keep going."

Holly slid forward in her seat, craning her neck to look up at the solid and bright moon, "They lived in the spirit world and together they would travel the skies at night. Unfortunately for them there was another spirit that envied them. The trickster. He wanted the moon for himself. So one night he told Kue Kohatsu that the moon had asked for some flowers and that he should come to our world to pick them. Kue Kohatsu came down to the earth to pick wild roses for his lover."

Holly sighed softly, "He didn't know that once you leave the spirit world you can never go back." She slid back in her seat, head turned toward him, "So every night he howls her name at the sky, but he can never touch her again."

"Sounds like he got screwed." Logan replied.

"That's what you said to Kayla." Holly bit her lip, "Do you want to know what Kue Kohatsu means?"

"Why not?"

Holly reached out, touching his dog tags through his shirt. "It means the wolverine."

He drew in a breath and held it. It had been a question that nagged at him. Why would he pick wolverine? Why? Now he knew.

Some of the wrenching guilt that had been gnawing at his guts eased. Not all, but some.

"I loved her," he said softly, "didn't I?"

Holly had withdrawn her hand and now she sat looking at the sky through the glass of the passenger window. "You wanted to have a future and children with her. Stryker and your brother stole that from you."

Logan dug in his jacket pocket for a cigar.

He needed a smoke.

When Logan had driven almost a full thirty six hours without sleep he gave her the option: Find a motel or sleep in the car. Holly had given him what he was going to label her cynical look, and opted for the motel. One that wasn't pay by the hour. It didn't matter, the guy behind the counter still looked them both over with skeptical eyes.

Double beds, both full sized.

Logan let the water beat on his face. It was cheaper to sleep in a double room, but that didn't mean he was okay with it. Storm had told him to keep an eye on the ki…Holly. She supposedly didn't do well with sleeping in new places. Not that he could blame her. If he had her mutation he wouldn't have left that hospital clean room and the drugs.

Logan emerged from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Holly was in deep sleep, fully clothed, on the bed closest to the door. Her back was to him. She hadn't even pulled down the comforter. She had thrown the pillows that were already on her bed on the floor between their beds. Holly curled up with one of the pillows she had brought with her under her hooded head and the other, strangely, held tightly against her chest.

He contemplated waking her so that she could shower. Instead he let her sleep.

In the morning he woke to the soft sound of shuffling.

Logan cracked one eye open.

The bathroom door closed with a click. The shower started soon after and then came the humming. If he hadn't had superhuman hearing he might not have heard it, but he did, so he did. One thing was for sure; the kid… Logan scowled to himself.  _ Holly _ was tone deaf. Logan let out a short string of curses and stuffed a pillow over his head. It drowned out the sound but sleep had left him entirely.

He glanced at the clock.

It was almost nine in the morning. Ten and a half hours of sleep. He got up, scrubbing his hand over his face. They were going to have to leave in an hour. With the blinds closed it was dark enough to have let him sleep longer and damn, he was missing his dream. And, as the slightly painful twinge between his legs told him, so were lower parts of him.

The water shut off in the bathroom.

So much for sleeping. Logan pushed off the bed, turning his back on the bathroom door. He grabbed his duffel bag and the white t-shirt he'd taken out the night before. He had slept without a shirt during the night. It had to have been coincidence that Holly opened the door just as he stood up.

It was a surprise, that's what. Nothing but surprise. The breath she sucked in was just her surprise at him being awake and not being ready for it. Her eyes averted, head ducking and no, she hadn't just seen an obscenely good looking man half naked. Nope. Not at all.

"You're up," she said as she passed him, completely missing his face as she passed.

Logan's nostrils flared slightly. The pheromones rolling off her gave him the answer to a question he'd had in his head for a while. They were confirmation that yes, she was attracted to him. He pulled on his shirt, watching her fully dressed form.

"Did you sleep okay?" Holly asked.

He wore a self satisfied smirk at the decidedly higher octave her voice had taken, "Well enough. You?"

She shrugged, "Better than in the car."

Which had not been very comfortable. She had slept curled in the flattened passenger seat, back to him, with the pillows angled under her head instead of separate. She was shoving her dirty clothing into the duffel bag. It was just easier not to look at him.

"Yer sweating," Logan said with a cross between amusement and curiosity.

"It's warm in here," Holly placated.

"Feels fine to me," he said grabbing the pillows she'd thrown on the floor.

"So says the man who's temperature runs at one oh one." Holly told him. She nearly jumped when one of his bare arms brushed her clothed one. He'd just been setting one of the pillows back on her bed but he was far too close for comfort.

Too close for her comfort.

Holly averted her eyes and bowed her arm away from him. It took concentration not to rub the area where his arm had brushed hers. It was still warm and by all logic it shouldn't have been. Holly hefted up her duffel bag, "You go check out. I'll wait in the car."

The skin on her back burned where she could have sworn he was looking after her.

* * *

**Chapter 10: **

Never There - Cake

Every Time it Rains - Charlotte Martin

Ugly Side - Blue October

* * *

The music throbbed in her ears and she was thankful again for Jimmy loaning her his Ipod for the trip. The greatest thing about knowing a negative was that they had no transfer and no memory attached to them. They just were. In her head she had a fantasy of finding another negative, an older one that she was attracted to. That she could fall in love with.

She shook her head. The only time she thought about love was when she was watching a movie or reading. Who the hell was she going to kid? Falling into love with someone or allowing herself to love unrequited in suffering silence was a terrible burden. Not to mention a terrible idea. She'd seen what happens to people who pine for those they love.

Her mother had gone to her grave pining for Holly's father. It hadn't been the broken heart that killed her, it had been cancer, but her mother had never been happy. Not truly happy. She had missed Holly's father for eighteen years. She had missed him so much that she never gave any man another chance. She never really loved again.

Holly shook her head again, trying to clear it. Back to the matter at hand.

Her mutation wasn't conducive to dating either.

How did one explain on their first date that constant contact wasn't enough? She would have to take in their feel every day even after the initial pain and agony of full transfer. What man could put up with watching his lover torture herself just to kiss him when they got up in the morning and before they went to bed at night?

Then there was the problem of sex. Once she did absorb everything and her powers had allowed her to deal with being touched, what would happen to her during sex? How in control of herself could she remain in the throes of passion? And how would she react to the sheets? The condom? Or the pill if she had to take it?

Her brain started to hurt.

Logan yawned, bored from the drive. He flicked on the blinker, "I'm gonna pull over to stretch my legs and get some air."

Holly nodded yanking the earbuds from her ears. The car pulled over to the side of the road. The cold air hit her face when she opened the car door and it felt good. She breathed in and reveled in the fresh air. It felt cooler here than it had when they left. Snow hadn't fallen yet in Westchester, but there had been snow further north in Plattsburgh and Burlington.

There was fallen snow on the ground here and the air smelled like cold.

"How far are we?" She asked when he took out the map.

"About half a day from Saskatchewan." He opened the map further and studied it with critical eyes, "Do you really think the town hall would have records?"

"Genealogy records of outlying areas are typically held in the major cities of the time or in local churches and libraries." Holly said parroting a former Canadian studies teacher. Undergraduate studies could be diverse as you like as long as you could explain it come time to get your degree. She had a history minor. You could fudge almost anything with a history minor. "You could always just let me touch you again and we could see what I pick up."

Even though she had what Holly approximated to be ninety percent of whatever could have been transferred, there was no telling what that other ten percent held. She'd recovered that he was born in Canada, and was able to pull off that the house his father lived in had been a north western territory, but she hadn't gotten much beyond that than the year. In 1845 Logan had been twelve years old.

He could have been her ancestor twice over instead of being a potential…well…boyfriend.

The idea sent her head reeling.

"There ain't anywhere you can touch on me that won't make you bleed out," he said while he looked at the map.

That wasn't entirely true. "I could touch your neck, or your back, maybe one of your legs." Or his chest. His stomach. His mouth. Or…Holly blushed and turned away from him.

Walking she stretched her arms high over her head then brought them down again and swung them to the back and front, crossing them. When he didn't scoff or make another sarcastic comment Holly turned around to look at him.

He was looking back at her.

"There's a hospital about a half hour drive from here," He said. "Could you wait until I get into the parking lot?"

Holly rolled her eyes upward, "I've told you before, I've got your blood in me now. It won't hurt as much as before."

He still made her wait until they were parked across the street from a hospital.

She stripped off the glove of her left hand and pressed just the tips of her fingers on the right side of his collar bone. It hurt, but not as much as before. Then she was in his head.

He'd forgotten the door, or he was purposely leaving it off. Either way she was seeing things he probably didn't want her seeing. He was thinking about how soft her skin was. He was thinking he wanted to push back her hood and let that long dark hair down from its perpetual braid. He thought he was too old to be thinking about her in the way he was thinking about her. She had a nice body, curvy, like he liked. He liked brunettes with curves. He like them a bit taller than she was but height wasn't so big a deal

He was nearly two hundred.

She still said cool.

He wondered if she looked as good in the nude as she did in her clothes.

Holly actually had to concentrate on getting flashes, something she hadn't had to do since her mother tried to help her harness her mutation. She pulled her hand away after a few moments. To her it had seemed like a small lifetime. A thick trail of blood started down from one nostril and her eyes remained unfocused for several seconds. Her hand convulsed on its own. Shockwaves from it ran up her arm. Her shoulder jerked twice then settled.

When she came to he was trying to hide the pained guilt in his eyes.

Holly ignored it and wiped at her nose with a napkin from their last take out meal. "Told you," she said though it came out more like tolth yuth from the muffling of the napkin.

The bleeding stopped as almost as quickly as it had started.

Holly wiped at her nose over and over rubbing off the last vestiges of her nose bleed. "There's nothing there I haven't seen before."

Logan didn't look like he believed her, but he put the car in gear and began driving again

They were an hour outside of Regina in the territory that Holly couldn't pronounce. Logan laughed at her every time she tried. She made an annoyed sound at him, "Oh drop dead you jerk.  _ You're _ Canadian of course  _ you  _ can pronounce it."

She could spell it. She really could. Taking Canadian Studies at Buffalo State had forced her to learn to spell it. That still didn't mean she could pronounce it worth a damn. Which was terribly funny considering she could wrap her mouth around words like Massapequa and Patchogue. Growing up on Long Island did have its bonuses with vocabulary sometimes.

Logan laughed again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "That wasn't an answer."

Holly groaned, "No, I do not want to eat at the Sasquatch diner."

"Saskatchewan."

Instantly she knew how Muerte felt in Undercover Blues. The words 'I kill you now' with Stanley Tucci's bad Spanish accent took over all thought for several seconds. Lunge and throttle. She fought the idea of hitting him. His bones would break her hands before she ever got him unconscious. "Like I said, no. Isn't there a Denny's or something around here?"

He was pulling into the parking lot anyway.

She glared at the side of his head.

He was out of the car and walking into the restaurant without waiting for her. Holly flipped the bird at his retreating back and got out. She followed reluctantly into the diner. The waitress was flirty, her attention staying on Logan a lot longer than it should have.

It was a good thing, Holly thought, that jealousy didn't show as well in people who already had green eyes.

A minute part of her mind reminded her she really didn't have a right to be jealous. Just because he admitted he wanted her didn't mean she got to be jealous. You don't get to be jealous of a relationship you don't have. Especially one you will not admit to wanting.

Holly's fist slammed down on her own thigh.

Logan looked at her across the table in a silent question.

"My leg was falling asleep," she supplied with something that was a little more of a self loathing snarl and began to manhandle the menu. Damn her powers. Damn them until kingdom come.

The flirty waitress came back. She took Logan's order with a smile that was a lot more come hither than called for at two in the afternoon. Or was it noon since this was a different time zone? Then the flirty waitress turned a not so happy smile on Holly. It was still ridiculously poilite, but it was definitely  _ not _ happy.

"A large order of fries and the tomato soup." When the waitress was gone, Holly caught Logan looking at her. "What?"

"You a vegetarian?" It sounded like an accusation instead of a question.

Her smile was a wicked imitation of an animal baring teeth, "Imagine biting into your steak and reliving its entire life. A whole life living in a stall eating from a trough and then one day someone leads you out of the trough and cracks your skull open with a hammer. You get to fall to your knees dying and watching other cows get killed and there isn't a damn thing you can do about any of it."

He looked a little green around the gills.

Her sadistic streak didn't feel like laying off yet, "Now imagine being thirteen years old, you just had the greatest birthday party of your life and you get your favorite dinner. Steak with green beans and tater tots. After one bite it sends you into screaming agony and you pass out for three days."

The flirty waitress dropped off the drinks. Something in their expressions must have told her she wasn't welcome. She avoided flirting this time.

Holly tore into the paper around her straw. "Gives a whole new meaning to ordering your steak rare, doesn't it?"

"Jesus," he said. "How the hell do you survive?"

She looked down at the crumpled straw wrapping solemnly. "Carefully."

* * *

**Chapter 11: **

Melodious Meows - Ella The Kitten

Keep on Trying - Poco

Our Last Summer - ABBA

Slipping Through My Fingers - ABBA

Bark Bark Bark Intruder - Luke and Sam

* * *

Snowflakes the size of quarters were falling on the windshield. Logan's mouth set into a firm, flat line. He wasn't exactly sure what the hell just happened. He had turned on the radio, there had been a news broadcast about some billionaire in California. Holly had jerked her headphones out of her ears and turned up the volume on the broadcast.

Then she had gone white as a sheet.

He cast her a quick glance.

She was staring blankly out the window, her teeth pulling and rolling her lower lip in a nervous repetitive motion.

"Do you know him?" Logan asked.

Her head whipped toward him, eyes wider than saucers, paled and…scared. She was scared.

"No," Holly said after a moment. Then she thought better of it. "Yes and no. I guess." Her teeth worried her lower lip again. "I…he's…" Holly frowned deeply, furrows forming between her brows, "He's my dad."

It was Logan's turn to be surprised.

"I never knew him." She continued quickly. 'My mom was never able to get in contact with him after she found out she was pregnant. She was only fifteen. He was sixteen. He had this guardian that didn't like my mom. At least that's what she said. She wrote him and called and she never got through to him."

"I thought you grew up in New York," Logan said.

Holly looked at him, "I did. I grew up on Long Island. They met while my grandparents and my mother were on vacation. They had this whirlwind summer romance and when she came back to New York for school she was pregnant."

"If you tell him now yer gonna make yerself a target for his enemies." Logan concluded after a few seconds of silence.

Holly nodded. She bit down on her lower lip so hard it hurt. For some silly reason she wanted to cry.

The washers in the coin wash made soft swishing sounds as various people's clothing went through the cycles of agitation and rinsing. Holly yawned from atop one said machine with a book in hand. Logan was supposed to be getting a room at the motel next door while she watched their laundry. The deal worked out. He didn't like doing laundry and she didn't like dealing with the leering jerks that usually worked behind the check in desks.

"Room two oh one." Logan's voice said unexpectedly.

Holly jumped with a squeak of, "Shit!" She glared at him, one hand pressed to her chest once she got a grip on her senses. Holly swatted his arm with book.

He made a move to block it, "Easy, easy."

"How the hell do you do that?" She slapped her book on his arm one more time.

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on people in cowboy boots." Holly put the book down before she was tempted to hit him again. It would only damage her book and since she planned on finishing it destroying it would be entirely counterproductive. "Did you get a room?" He handed her a key. An actual bronze-ish looking key attached to a silver key ring and white tag with tacky gold lettering and the room number. Her eyebrows shot up. "Seriously?"

It didn't seem to bother him. Maybe that was because he could take out anyone that decided to pick the lock to their room. She on the other hand could not. Holly pocketed her key warily and went back to her book.

There were things from his past that stood out in her mind sometimes. It was random really and usually the thoughts passed as quickly as they came. The exception would have been nights like tonight. Tonight she couldn't sleep because he'd left transfer on her pillows. She was sure he hadn't meant to. He probably didn't even know he had.

It didn't hurt, it wasn't enough to hurt, but it was enough to roll her for a second.

He'd put her pillows in the room while she'd been doing the laundry.

Holly turned over once again, shifting in annoyance. It wasn't late, but she was tired. Every time sleep seemed like it was coming near it fell back. Unconsciousness called but wouldn't let her claim it.

"Can't sleep?" His voice was softer than normal. It was the sleepy sound of someone that had either just woken up or wasn't fully asleep yet.

"Go back to sleep," she muttered.

"Can't if yer tossing an' turnin'." He replied in a stronger tone.

"Sorry," Holly said guiltily.

There was the sound of him shifting, "What's keepin' you up?"

A lot of things. Mostly too many thoughts and not enough space in her head. One of these days she was going to run out. The knowledge that day was coming should have scared her more than it did. The fact that she wasn't spoke volumes. Especially to the psychiatrist at Mayfair General that insisted she stay instead of going to Xavier's school

Holly shook her head. Going there wasn't going to help. "Too much clutter," she said into the silence without a clue as to why.

He was quiet for a few beats, then, "How can you be sure you'll cook my brain?"

Back to that old argument. Holly glared up at the ceiling rather than at his dark form. "How can you be sure you'll regenerate?"

"You won't kill me," he said. He sounded very much awake. And too resolute in his decision for her comfort.

"No, I'll just turn you into a freaking vegetable. That's as good as dead." Holly sighed into the darkness of the room. "You're not invincible Logan. Super human, superior mutation and fuck, you won the freaking genetic lottery, but you're still killable."

There was something in his voice she couldn't identify, "Yer awfully worried about killin' me darlin'."

"Unlike some,  _ I _ don't get a kick out of hurting a nice guy." She replied.

"I ain't nice," he said.

Which brought to mind a piece of his past that she had mulled over a few times. Alright, more than a few times. A few dozen times would be closer to the truth. Not that she was going to tell him that. "She was wrong, you know," Holly said softly.

"Who?"

"Jean." It was almost a whisper. "She was wrong,"

"About what?" He said it almost stiffly.

"When she told you that girls flirt with the dangerous guy but don't take him home." Holly rolled onto her side, facing him in the dark. He was facing her. She tried to make eye contact in the dark. "Just because you're dangerous doesn't mean you're not a nice guy."

He was silent again for a few moments. Then, "It would work," he said in that tone she couldn't identify.

"I won't fry you," Holly said for the umpteenth time.

He laughed and it was an all male sound. "That wasn't what I was talkin' about."

Holly turned her head toward his voice, "What would work?" Then it dawned on her. Holly turned her face away from him. "No it couldn't."

"You want me," his voice was rougher, deeper, "yeh can't say you don't."

Holly closed her eyes, "Just because I'm physically attracted to you doesn't mean-"

"It ain't just physical and you damn well know it," he snapped.

The words felt like the crack of a whip. They stung, red and sore. Holly felt the burn of tears, "Logan don't."

"You can't tell me I'm the only one fallin' here."

"Don't," she said again. It was almost a sob.

"Holly," he said. It was the first time he'd really said her name. The first time and he was pleading with her for something she couldn't give him.

"Could you hurt me every day Logan?" The tears began to slip slowly, burning trails that stained her pillow with saline. "Every day you'd have to hurt me. You would have to watch me bleed. Every moment, every minute we were together you would have to be aware of where you were touching me. How you were touching me. One, just one, careless move and I could end up in a coma." She sniffed, "Christ I don't even think I can have sex. How the hell would you deal with that? You probably can't touch my skin, kiss me or show me how much you…"

Holly bit into her lower lip so hard that it bled.

It was quiet in the dark for several long, agonizing moments. Then there was movement. Shuffling and the shifting of clothing. The creaking of the bed. The jingle of a key. The door to the hotel room opened and closed with finality.

Holly curled up in a ball, her knees pressed to her chest, and wept in the dark.

* * *

**Chapter 12: **

Like a Stone - Audioslave

I Will Follow You into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie

Name of the Game - Mama Mia Soundtrack

Cue the Strings - Low

* * *

It took two more days to get to British Columbia. He didn't say more than twenty words to her the entire ride. When they finally found a hotel in downtown Vancouver that met their price range, Logan slept in the car. Holly had actually risked touching his hand just to find out what he was thinking. He hadn't shoved her, but he'd held her by her shoulders at arm's length and told her flatly to stay out of his head.

It wasn't until Holly was scanning through old microfilms of birth and death records that he spoke to her again. "What am I looking for?"

She had assigned him the task of going through the newspapers of the time. "A double murder." He was disturbingly quiet for someone who had killed dozens of people. "Thomas Logan shot Jacob Howlett. Jacob's son James killed Thomas Logan in revenge. There could be articles about the manhunt they held for you and Victor. There could be an obituary for your father."

His machine stopped scanning, "You said Thomas Logan was my father."

"I said he thought he was your father." She scanned through another article. "There isn't any way to tell. Your mother might have known, or she might not. It depends on who she slept with and when. If her cycle was regular or not." Holly shrugged, "Only real way now would be to dig them all up and get DNA samples to compare to yours."

"That's my family yer talkin' about," he said with a growl.

Holly looked at him, "Your two hundred years in the ground family. There isn't any point in being sentimental when you're talking about things that happened nearly  _ two hundred _ years ago."

He didn't look as if he agreed, but he didn't say anything. He went back to scanning through the microfilms. So did she.

The articles came in the early spring of 1845. The papers either hadn't known what to make of the stab wounds in Thomas Logan's torso or the police of the time had kept it out of the paper because it wasn't mentioned. The article had stated that Jacob Howlett's son, twelve year old James, took revenge for his father's death.

James Howlett and Victor Logan were sought in connection with both deaths.

Holly took the articles and the following obituaries to get them printed out. When she returned to the microfilm machines, Logan was nowhere to be found. After some searching she found him outside the library, smoking one of his seemingly endless supply of cigars.

Holly folded up the print outs and put them in her back pocket. She pulled off one glove and gingerly reached to touch the skin of his hand. He grabbed her clothed forearm before she even got near touching him.

"Told you to stay out of my head," it wasn't a snarl but it was mean enough to hurt. He dropped her arm. She grabbed his hand anyway.

The steel door was already in place.

It was his skin on hers and for a second it was nice. He was warm even though the winter air whipped around them. His hands were rough, a little dirty from dust, and covered her hand with long fingers. Then the muscles in her arm protested and jerked at the same time he yanked his hand from her touch.

Holly wiped at her nose with the back of her sleeve, "Did you learn to shield like that from the Professor?"

He was glaring at her, angrier than she had ever seen him.

"I have the location of their graves if you want to go." She wiped at her nose again.

His eyes narrowed, dropping from her own gaze to her nose. "Your nose bleeds are getting shorter."

Holly smiled thinly at him, "Don't get your hopes up."

He wanted to put flowers on his mother's grave. There was only one more gas station on the way to the graveyard. Logan pulled into one of the parking spots and got out. Holly followed him into the store. He was already looking at the small refrigerated bouquets of flowers.

He opened the door and grabbed the white roses.

Holly put her hand on his arm. "Not those."

Logan looked at her, "What? They aren't nice enough?"

She rolled her eyes and picked up the white carnations. "Flowers have meanings. White roses are for purity and innocence." Holly held out second bouquet to him, "White carnations are for remembrance. I would say white tulips; they mean forgiveness, but good luck getting those in the winter."

He took the flowers.

She went to the aisles looking for junk food. Machine processed junk food.

"They teach all that stuff about flowers an' research in college?"

Holly shrugged, "Sort of. The research was part of my undergraduate. You learn to research or die." She looked across the short shelves at him. He was looking for something. "Actually I have a PH.D. in literature." She grabbed a large bag of plain potato chips off the shelf. She looked up only to see dark, hooded eyes looking at her. "What?"

"You're full of surprises," he said it almost like it was a bad thing.

Holly shrugged, "Well at first I only wanted an Associates degree, but I figured after two years what was two more? So I did two more and got a Bachelor of Arts in English lit. Then I was offered a fellowship if I went on to get a PH.D. I'd already done four years, what were three more?"

She moved down the aisle opposite him, not looking at him. She picked up two packs of gum, one pink and the other dark yellow. Holly sniffed the backs. Her nose wrinkled. She put them down and selected two packs of plain wintergreen gum instead.

"Thought there was supposed to be another degree in there," Logan said gruffly putting the bottled water and his beer on the counter.

Holly stepped up near him, but held onto her own purchases. He took them from her without a word. She blinked, "Logan you don't have to…" He turned hooded eyes on her. Her mouth closed. "Thank you," she said as he pulled out his wallet.

He muttered something that sounded roughly like, "I owe you anyway."

Once they were back in the car, "To answer your question," though it hadn't been a question actually, "You don't have to have a master's degree to get a PH.D. You just need your Bachelors done."

He didn't say anything, but the tight set of his jaw said he was thinking. His fingers gripped the steering wheel a lot harder than necessary. Holly called his name twice but he didn't answer. She had the distinct impression he was too deep in thought.

She pulled off her glove.

Holly reached out one bare hand and touched his cheek. The flood of his thoughts tasted of confusion, self-loathing and a question that made her pulse quicken. He wanted to understand why his heart picked women he couldn't have. He couldn't touch her the way he wanted to touch her.

Logan jerked his head away with a low, furious growl. "I told you to stay out of my head."

Holly shrank back slightly, "I'm sorry Logan, I didn't…"

He turned and gave her a short look, and then the angry crease between his eyes softened. He looked back at the road to make sure no one was coming then turned back to her. Logan's eyes traveled across her face, "You're not bleeding."

Holly touched the skin just above her lip and just below her nose. She shook her head, "I'm getting used to you. It happens sometimes."

He was gazing out the windshield and at the road. A look she couldn't read or place was written across his face. His nostrils flared and she wondered what he was smelling. Then he hit the signal and pulled the car over to the dirt side of the road. His hands were white and bloodless on the steering wheel from gripping it so tight.

The car traveled a short distance into the wooded area until the road really wasn't visible anymore.

Holly hit her seat belt. She had meant to simply lean over and see if he was alright. He caught her arm at her covered wrist. Holly's pulse skipped.

"Get out," he ordered. His tone was enough. It was rough, heated and laced with need.

Her heart thundered in her ears. Excitement and just a touch of fear plowed through her. Holly scrambled with the door handle and popped it open. Logan was already striding around the car in fluid movements. She barely had the door closed behind her when he was there, towering above her.

Slowly, something that was costing Logan a great deal of control, his hand brushed her chin. His fingers just cupping her neck as his thumb traced her lower lip. Her eyes rolled slightly and when they refocused and widened, he crushed his mouth against hers. The little moan that left her throat went straight to his groin. He pinned her against the car with his body, one knee parting her legs.

One of his hands planted squarely on the car, and the other held her hip. He angled her pelvis into his leg. Holly bucked, moaning. Her hands shot out, one anchoring to his wrist at her hip and the other went to his shoulder.

Logan's tongue teased her, easing into her mouth, taking advantage. Her tongue fought back swirling around his. The pressure from the lump forming in his jeans dug into her stomach. Holly's knees gave. His hand on her waist and the leg he had between hers kept her in place. She bucked against him again trying to relieve the delicious friction he'd created between her legs.

He chuckled, low, dark and deep. He pulled away enough to let her breathe, "You okay darlin'?"

"Mmmhmm," Holly replied, evergreen eyes fluttering.

His fingers stroked up and down the side of her face gently. His thumb moved over her bruised lips, "Look at me."

It took a moment, and then her eyes opened. Her lips were parted, and she panted softly against the skin of his thumb.

Logan traced over her lips again, "Did I hurt you?"

Her head shook from side to side, dark tresses tossing with her movements. Her hair fell softly over his wrist. She breathed in, eyes closing for a long moment then reopening. Holly's tongue darted out, wetting her lips. His eyes followed the movement with heat.

Her fingers flexed on his jacket, "How long have you been waiting to do that?"

He wore that look, the guilty but self satisfied one men get when they've done something extremely naughty and got away with it. Logan's lips slanted with a smirk. His fingers flexed at her hip, "A while."

She let out a little hiss of pain. Instantly the hand he had on her hip was pulling up her shirt with two fingers and using the other three to push her jeans down. A set of bruises, just forming with an angry shade of blue-purple. His mouth pressed into a thin line while he eyed the shapes of his fingers as they formed beneath her skin.

"It didn't hurt until you pressed on it," Holly told him sheepishly. Her face stained red, "Must have been the endorphins." She put the hand that had been holding his wrist over his hand, "It's okay Logan."

His thumb ran over her lower lip again. Her eyes fluttered and he felt her jerk just slightly. "Why didn't you tell me you could get used to me?"

Her gaze dropped, "Because it doesn't always happen. Because it won't last." She reached up to touch his cheek with the hand that had been on his shoulder. Her gloved fingers ran over his skin, "Sooner or later you're going to spend more than a couple of days away from me. When that happens…" she let her voice trail off.

"I will hurt to touch you again," he finished solemnly.

* * *

**Chapter 13: **

Oh look! The rating changed.  **Mature audiences proceed.**

Drive - Melissa Ferris

Bad Things - Jace Everett

Rev 22:20 - Pucifier

Slow Chemical - Finger Eleven

* * *

When Holly came out of the shower that night, there was a towel, her spare towel, placed across her bed. One of her pillows was placed at the top of it. Logan was nowhere in sight. She looked at the setup curiously. They were placed to face his bed.

Her brow creased.

What the hell was he doing?

Then an idea snuck its way into her mind. Holly blushed from head to toe.

The door clicked with the sound of the key in the lock. It nearly made her jump. Her pulse was in her throat. Logan opened the door. He had a bag in hand which he tossed on the closest night stand.

"Um…" and for the first time in her life she really was at a lack for words. She shifted her weight to one foot. "Is that," she nodded to the towel and pillow, "for what I think its for?"

He had this odd little smirk on his mouth. His dark eyes raked over her, "That depends on what you think it's for."

Holly's skin flushed. He made her feel naked even though she was wearing clothes. "Logan…I don't know if I can…I mean…" Where the hell did her brain go? The moment it connected the dots it decided to take a vacation and leave her there to deal with the aftermath.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!

He was trying to hide his laughing.

Holly stomped her foot, "It's not funny! You've got a hundred years experience in bed. I've only kissed two men!" Then she pouted, because it was all she could really think of to do.

It took him exactly two strides to cross the room to reach her.

He towered over her five four frame. He was muscular to her curvy. It gave him the advantage when she had to tilt her head back to look up when he was this close. He was kissing her again and hell, she would never get tired of that. He pulled her flush against him, his fingers in the hair at the back of her neck, the other arm wrapped around her.

He was a solid unmovable mass pressed against her and it felt incredibly good. Good to be in his arms. Good to be kissing him. It was hungry, demanding and completely unyielding.

Holly would have happily died like this.

His teeth tugged at her lower lip and her legs went to putty. She wound her arm around his neck and leaned into him. His tongue found its way into her mouth, swirling and circling, teasing. He coaxed a moan from her throat.

Holly felt as if she was melting.

When air became a necessity for them both, it was good to know that hers weren't the only pupils dilated. He held her possessively. She loved the promise of power contained behind the coil of his muscles. Their chests heaved in unison.

He let go of her neck to reach for her braid. Their eyes met. He jerked the tie from her hair and tossed it to the ground. Her hair, damp and soft fell from its braid as his fingers ran through it. The way he looked at her made her blush a soft scarlet.

A sudden rush of desire and fear tightened a knot of nervous energy in her chest.

"Easy darlin'," Logan said, "I ain't gonna hurt you."

Holly's hands, bare hands, braced against his shirt. "It always hurts the first time."

He chuckled, a low rumbling sound in his chest, "Much as I'd like to, that ain't gonna happen tonight."

And that twisting knot of nervousness in her chest eased a little. But that still didn't explain what exactly was going to happen tonight. Because, obviously, something was. He had almost said as much.

Then, completely without meaning to, he gave her the mental image of what he wanted. His fingers had simply brushed her scalp once. Her body jerked slightly with the contact. Holly's eyes went wide. "I…um…" and she couldn't blame him for the loss of her brain power. "I just showered," she said weakly.

That really didn't seem to matter to him. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and deposited her fully clothed form on the towel. It wasn't damp, he hadn't showered yet, but it smelled like him. That woodsy male scent he had, mixed with soap and detergent.

And there he was, towering over her again.

"You make me feel like a dwarf," she muttered with a half hearted glare.

Then he pulled his shirt over his head and there was a whole new level to her feelings of inadequacy. To say he was obscenely gorgeous was a complete and utter understatement.

He had thick dark whorls of hair peppered across his chest that tapered down to a smoothly muscled stomach. Another thin dark trail of hair took up at his navel, leading down to the waistband of his pants. He should have had scars, but his skin was flawless, bunching and smoothing with the flex of sinew and tendons beneath.

Holly shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold.

"Yer starin' darlin'," he said with amusement.

Holly managed to tear her eyes from his body and aim them at his face, "You sit were I am and see what I'm seeing then you try not to stare."

Then he was kissing her again. Crawling on top over her, easing her back onto the pillow and the rest of the towel. She saw how much of his restraint was being tested. In his mind, in his fantasies, he'd made her scream his name. In his fantasies he'd made love to her until she couldn't walk properly. But he was trying to be gentle. For her.

When she saw herself through his eyes Holly didn't feel so inadequate anymore.

Tentatively her fingertips trailed over the skin of his biceps. His mouth left hers to find a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. Holly's fingernails dug into his shoulders. She saw a flash in his head, it was quick but she'd seen it. He liked a little pain during sex but he wasn't going to tell her that.

He was going slow for her.

Holly did the only thing she could think of to encourage him. She bit down on his lower lip. There was a rough growl from deep within his throat. He shuddered. Logan tore his mouth away from hers, eyes dark and pupils dilated with hunger, "Darlin' I'm tryin' to do right by you. Don't push me. My control isn't that good."

Her pulse jumped in her throat. She nodded shallowly and bit her lip.

He was pulling down the zipper to her hoodie. Holly sat up shrugging it off. She pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it to the end of the bed. Logan was smirking when she looked at him. Holly frowned.

"What?"

"How many layers do you have on?"

Holly blushed, "Shut up." She tugged self-consciously at the bottom hem of her tank top. His hand was there, pushing aside hers aside. His fingers curled under the hem and pulled it up. Holly raised her arms allowing him to pull it over her head. It ended up in the corner of the bed with her hoodie and t-shirt.

The cool air of the motel room raised goosebumps on her skin. This was more skin than anyone had ever seen on her in a very, very long time. He pushed her down again, holding himself above her with hands braced on either side of her head. Logan's mouth pressed to the newly exposed skin of her shoulders.

He found a particularly sensitive spot at the junction of her shoulder and neck which he exploited ruthlessly. Holly's head fell back, her nails digging into his back. He growled against her skin. One of his hands left the bed to tug at the tie on her sweat pants. They were pulled down quickly, followed by her leggings and unceremoniously dropped to the floor.

The moment his fingers touched the curls nestled between her legs; Holly had the immediate instinctual reaction to pull away. If his knees hadn't been either side of her thighs, effectively trapping her, she might have. Instead she closed one of her hands around his wrist, stopping him. It took him a moment, his breathing was labored, pupils dilated to a point that was well past sanity.

"Logan," she murmured, touching his face with her other hand. He blinked a few times, dark eyes focusing on her. Then he kissed her hard. His free hand left her sex to run over her skin, teasing sensitized flesh. He learned the map of her skin with hands and lips and teeth.

Holly mewled softly when his fingers gently tugged at one dusky nipple. His index finger traced around it, thumb stroking slowly, experimentally. Holly arched into the touch. His head bent, his mouth closing over it.

Holly bucked against him. Logan's arm wrapped around her waist, holding her up while he suckled at her. Her world narrowed to just him biting, licking sucking. The swirl of his tongue and the tug of his teeth.

She cried his name, her fingers pressing tightly to the back of his neck.

His mouth tore away from her breast to smash a hungry, demanding kiss against her mouth.

He wanted to be inside her so badly it almost hurt.

His fingers dipped down again, caressed slowly across her stomach from her breasts and then up again. Each revolution went further than the last. He touched her upper left thigh with just the tips of his fingers. This time they didn't come back up. He guided her leg over one of his hips, parting her, exposing her most intimate parts to him.

Logan's thumb pressed gently against the sensitive bundle of nerves he found nestled in dark curls. His index and middle fingers stroked down further until he found her entrance. He bit the junction between her shoulder and neck.

Holly's body jerked.

He pushed just his middle finger into her while she was distracted. The muscles of her sex tensed around him, jumping and squeezing at the intruding digit. He groaned against her neck unable to escape the thought of how good she would feel if it wasn't just his finger inside her.

Holly wriggled against him, her body's spasms slowed. It wasn't comfortable, not at all.

Then he crooked his finger and began to stroke, moving leisurely, over a spot that made her body hum. Her eyelids fluttered and a low moan broke from her lips. His finger flexed and she shivered in pleasure.

Logan sucked at the mark he'd made on her neck, nipping and licking until he was satisfied with it.

Her fingers ran through his hair over and over. She began to pant, her hips pressing against his palm. She moaned, her head thrashing on the pillow as something low in her belly coiled tighter and tighter. "Logan," came her desperate cry.

His mouth pressed kisses to her neck, her collar bone, her shoulder slipping downward until it found her breast. He eased his middle finger in and out. His index finger joined the dance, stretching her. Her body squeezed around him, convulsing with slow aching throbs. His thumb moved in a slow, teasing circle around the small nub at the top of her sex while his mouth nursed greedily at her breast. A soft keening sound left her mouth. Holly's hips wriggled against his hand.

Logan groaned. His mouth left her breast to kiss her collarbone, her neck and to tug at her earlobe. "Yer so tight darlin'," came his rough whisper in her ear. His index and middle fingers eased in slowly and slid out to emphasize his point. His teeth tugged at her earlobe again. "I keep thinkin' how hot and tight you'd feel wrapped around me."

Holly's hips bucked. He plunged his fingers into her again.

He chuckled an all male, deep and throaty chuckle in her ear. His thumb began to move faster, stroking in time with the fingers within her. "You gonna come for me sweetheart?"

A strangled mewl left her lips. Waves of pleasure so intense they robbed her of words. It was too much…oh god…

"Come for me Holly," Logan whispered.

Her body shattered, breaking into a thousand tiny shards as each wave of ecstasy crested again and again.

The low and deep rumbling chuckle that left his throat sounded almost satisfied despite the hard lump digging into her hip. His fingers, still damp with her moisture, stroked absently at the dark curls between her legs.

Evergreen eyes opened slowly meeting hungry brown. Shakily, carefully, she reached one hand up, the hand that had been holding onto his arm, and touched his cheek. Her fingertips ran from the scruff of his beard to his temple and down again.

Holly smiled softly. "Okay," she murmured, "let's try."

* * *

**Chapter 14: **

Crystal Cowboy - Bandits

Doesn't Remind Me - Audioslave

Pinch Me - Barenaked Ladies

* * *

The one thing Holly found particularly interesting about Logan was that his sides were ticklish. He glowered at her while she giggled. Her fingers danced near the sensitive areas of his skin. He made a soft sound and grabbed her wrist gently.

"Don't," he murmured.

Holly snuggled into him, hiding her smile in his chest. It was funny to think that he, of all people, was ticklish. She suppressed another giggle.

They had been driving two days. That was about as long as he could go without sleep, when he'd pulled into the parking lot of a decently priced motel. Holly had been expecting him to finally use those condoms he had bought. He didn't.

Not that he didn't want to, Holly could see inside his head that he wanted to. He really, really wanted to. Just not here. He had the semblances of a plan on what was going to happen and how he wanted it to happen.

"When I fall asleep," his fingers trailed down her clothed arm, "you need to get into the other bed."

Holly's lips pressed a light kiss to his stomach, "You haven't had any nightmares the entire trip Logan."

"That doesn't mean I won't," he replied. He still had the memory of stabbing Rogue through the chest and it wasn't something he wanted to repeat. Ever.

She didn't argue. Instead she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He caught her around the waist with one arm and pulled her down, holding her flush against him. His other hand came up, brushing the strands of dark hair that had fallen from her braid and hood back behind her ear. Holly smiled down at him.

He pulled her head down for a rough kiss, swallowing her soft moan. His thumb caressed the skin of her jaw to her ear, guiding her head to give him better access to her mouth. Holly's eyes fluttered shut. His mouth moved under hers, demanding, forceful, yearning.

Holly's gloved hands gripped at his shoulders, holding on for sanity's sake. She could lose herself in his kisses. Somehow she ended up on top of him, her legs straddling the hardening lump in his pants. He groaned against her lips, thrusting his hips shallowly against hers. Holly pulled away, one hand braced on his chest.

Slowly, experimentally, she rocked against him. Oh…oh… Her eyes nearly rolled back into her head. The delicious pressure between her legs. His hands gripped her waist guiding her over him. Holly groaned a weak and broken sound.

Then he was pulling her down again, holding the nape of her neck, pressing an almost desperate kiss against her mouth.

He was thinking about throwing caution to the wind. He wanted her that badly.

Holly pulled away. He didn't fight it. Logan looked up at her, his breathing heavy.

"I don't think," Holly said with a soft pant, "my virginity is going to last much longer."

Logan threw his head back and laughed.

"I am not a genius," Holly glowered at him over breakfast. "I'm just smart."

"You said you're IQ is one forty three." Logan said after a sip of his coffee.

Her glower turned into a scowl. "That doesn't make me a genius," she insisted.

"Yer dad is Tony Stark."

"Just because my dad was a boy genius doesn't mean  _ I'm _ a genius." She drank a mouthful of orange juice. "That would be like saying just because he's a superhero now I'm going to be a superhero."

Logan gave her a pointed look. A very pointed look.

"Hey, I already told the Professor and Storm no." Which she had. More than once in Storm's case. Not every teacher that worked at the mansion needed to be part of the X-Men team. The world had its fair share of heroes these days. Holly was more than content to keep her nose in a book and let her boyfriend – she would NEVER get tired of saying that – do the hero gig.

She bit into her buttered sourdough with fervor.

He was smirking while he ate.

They were about three hours from the New York border. Normally he would have waited until they were back in New York before finding food, but her stomach rumbled long and loud in the car. So he'd pulled the car into the closest diner.

"I don't hold hands," he said completely out of the blue.

Holly had been in the middle of swallowing a mouth full of scrambled egg. She choked, coughed to clear her throat and looked at him. "Um…" she said, unable to think of anything else, "okay?"

"I don't like being called yer boyfriend either." He added.

Well  _ that _ was short lived.

"I don't do short term," Logan continued. He caught the quick flash of fear across her eyes, "We go as long as we can, if it ain't meant to be then it ain't meant to be."

The slight panic attack she'd had faded into that tight knot in her stomach. "You…," Holly bit her lower lip, "you have to stop asking me to try to put your memories back in your head if we're going to do this."

Logan's mouth pressed into a grim, flat line, "I'll stop asking."

The knot inside her stomach eased a little. "I'm allergic to some flowers. I can't eat chocolate and I don't like jewelry. So if you screw up, get me a movie or a book."

"I'm gonna screw up," he warned her. He sipped his coffee then added, "I'm gonna screw up really bad at least once."

Holly gave him her bravest smile, "So will I."

Holly awoke to the sound of the school's gate opening. She blinked blearily into the darkness of the car. They drove up the driveway, Logan hit the button for the garage and the large door opened. Then he was parking them behind what looked like a car that was stuck in the middle of restoration or break down.

The engine cut off. She looked at the dashboard's clock but it had already gone blank.

Energy saving cars.

"What time is it?" Holly murmured, stretching and yawning.

"About two in the morning," Logan replied.

The trip had taken nearly the whole two weeks of winter vacation.

"How much," she said with another yawn, "do you want to bet that none of my students watched the Dune saga yet?"

"They've got one day left," he said. Logan grabbed her bag out of the trunk and slung it over his shoulder.

"You don't have to carry that," she told him.

He took out his own bag and closed the trunk, "Yer too tired to walk straight. I'll carry it."

Holly opened her mouth to protest but a yawn came out instead. She blushed. He smirked. "Yeah, yeah, mister smarty pants."

"I'm not the one with the Mensa card."

Her blush went from pink to crimson, "Jerk."

"Virgin."

"Is it weird that I really want to kiss you right now?" Holly asked as they made their way toward the door that lead into the mansion.

Both bags hit the floor and her nose almost hit his chest. Her head reeled a little. Logan tipped her chin upward. Then he was kissing her and for a brief moment the world didn't exist. It was just her and him and the warm fuzzy feeling in her chest.

Then he was pushing her behind him and his claw popped with a swift hissing sound.

There was a man, tall, about as tall as Logan with dark red sunglasses…Holly blinked. Oh. She looked up at Logan for confirmation. His nostrils flared. Then his skin paled just a little. His claws retracted slowly.

"I had to die for you to stop using my car?" Scott Summers said.

Oh. This probably wasn't going to be good.

Holly looked back and forth between the two rivals.

Not good at all.

* * *

**Chapter 15: **

Time Stands Still - All American Rejects

Wasted and Ready - Ben Kweller

Notice - Gomez

Never There - Cake

* * *

The light that had been flickering over her head finally stopped its flashing. Piotr snapped the long fluorescent light bulb into the overhead light socket. "That should do it."

"Thanks Pete." Holly said. She hit the renew button the computer's screen and handed the book back to Jubilee, "Two weeks from today."

The girl smiled brightly, "Thanks Miss Harper."

One week back at school and she still hadn't fallen back into stride with the teaching gig. Holly returned the younger girl's smile. Not that she didn't like her students, she did. They surprised her in so many ways. Namely by collectively watching both the Dune saga and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy over the vacation.

They wrote their papers.

And they welcomed her back with a small class party that consisted of cookies and soda.

The door to the library opened, breaking Holly from her reverie.

"I don't believe you have met our English teacher and librarian, Holly Harper." The Professor said to his companion.

The nearly five-foot nothing, pointy eared woman looked the way Holly imagined a Tolkien wood elf might. Minus the height. Her hair was long colored in varying shades of green, white and brown with leaves and what looked like tree bark locked into the strands. She was a pale, spring green all over with her lips being a slightly darker shade, more like moss. Her eyes had no real pupil or iris; they were just a solid brown that darkened at circles near the center.

She was eerie yet completely ethereal.

Holly managed a half wave, "Hi."

"Hello," the small woman said with a voice that sounded like wind through the trees.

Alright, more eerie than ethereal.

Ivy wasn't the only new addition to Xavier's Mansion. Remy LeBeau, now thirty three and still talking about himself in the third person had arrived not more than two days after a call from Logan. And who could forget the return of Scott Summers?

As it turned out, Scott Summers had never been dead. He'd had severe dissociative episode and had been living off the grid with the mutant that had dragged him out of the lake. His memory had begun to come back and the Professor had picked up Scott's brain waves. He had returned to the mansion with his savior, Ivy Joan Morgan, in tow.

The teacher's wing was starting to get crowded.

Not that she had to worry about it. Not like there was anything to worry about.

It wasn't as if she had been doing anything in her room that warranted keeping quiet.

Holly nearly slammed a small stack of books on the desk without meaning too. She frowned to herself. No point in taking out frustrations on the books.

One week after she and Logan had returned and he hadn't touched her. Not even when they passed in the hall. He hadn't even tried to talk to her or apologize for ignoring her or…

Jane Austin's Emma was shoved into its place on the bookshelf a little too roughly.

"You do not look happy," Piotr said, startling her.

Holly jumped, dark green eyes wide, "Holy crap Pete. You scared me."

"Sorry," he shrugged, giving her a sheepish look, "I didn't mean to."

Holly managed a deep breath to calm the pounding of her heart. Once her pulse felt a little less erratic, "I'm fine, just a little annoyed at someone."

"Ah," he said. When she didn't add to her statement, "Is it something you would like to talk about?"

Holly turned her head toward him again. She had begun to shelve books again, this time more carefully. Her lips pressed together into a grim line, "I…" but what did she really have to say? How the hell did she talk to someone about this crap without giving away the fact that she and Logan had…

"No." She said with a tight smile, "thanks anyway."

"That…that…that…" Rogue said, searching her brain for the right word.

"Cad?" Holly supplied.

"Yeah," The eighteen year old said in her southern accent, "Cad." She stirred the spoon in her glass of chocolate milk. "Ah can't believe he'd just…" Maybe she was just at a loss for words tonight. "Ah mean. Ah was teaching and ah wouldn't have asked if Kurt hadn't been sick but he was an'…"

A frustrated puff of air.

"And?" Holly prompted.

"And Cyrano never got to kiss Roxanne!" Rogue said with a final bout of anger.

Apparently, from what Holly had garnered from her young friend's three minute rant, Kurt had been sick today and had been unable to teach drama with Rogue. In an attempt to try to include Remy in the school's goings on, she had asked him to stand in for Kurt during the Cyrano De Bergerac demonstration.

While Rogue had been reading the part where Roxanne asks Cyrano to watch out for her beloved Christian Remy had taken the initiative. He had kissed Rogue in front of the class.

"Ah would have asked Scott but…" Rogue sulked.

But Scott Summers was still upset about his wife's death.

Her real death this time.

He had slugged Logan, spraining his own hand in the process. Doctor MacTaggart fixed for him. After that he had disappeared into his room.

Holly sipped her water.

"It wouldn't 've been so bad if it hadn't been so damn good," a soft, dream like sigh left Rogue's mouth. "God that man can kiss."

Holly sipped her water again. Silently.

"He's too old for me," Rogue said after a few moments of thought. "Ah mean, well," she blushed a soft rosy color, "He's thirty something."

"I thought you went out with Piotr once." Holly asked.

"Well he's only twenty four. There's nothin' too different with that kind of age gap." Rogue reasoned, dark brown eyes watching the last vestiges of chocolate syrup settle to the bottom of the glass.

"I almost had sex with Logan while we were gone," Holly blurted out.

Aside from the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, there was no sound. Not even a breath.

Holly looked down at her water glass. "I need something stronger than this."

The chocolate milk was promptly put aside. "Me too."

The bartender put the third – or was it fourth? – round of tequila shots on the bar. Rogue grabbed the one in front of her and held it up, "To…" her brow furrowed for a moment in thought. Then an idea came to her, "Tomorrow being Saturday!"

Holly's own shot glass clinked against Rogue's in salute. The both threw back the shots. Holly took up the lemon and sucked on it, washing the foul taste of liquor from her mouth. She hated to drink but sometimes…sometimes a drink or six was exactly what the doctor ordered. She signaled to the bartender to give them another round.

Typically Holly wasn't one to contribute to underage drinking, but… If Rogue was considered old enough to help defend the world against psychopathic mutants bent on world domination then she was old enough to sit in a bar and have a few shots of liquor.

Rogue giggled, "Ah loved that kiss. It was so much better than Bobby's." The statement was followed by a girlish, dreamy sigh. "Ah didn't want to pull away."

"You're drunk," Holly told her friend.

Another giggle, higher in pitch, "Probably."Rogue took up the shot just as the bartender finished pouring it, "To stupid men and their stupid kisses."

Holly raised her shot and tossed it back. It burned down her throat and warmed her chest.

"This stuff is terrible," Rogue told Holly.

"I agree," Holly replied. "One more round," she told the bartender.

Upon entering the bar Rogue and Holly had been carded. A wink and a fifty dollar bill got Rogue in. And the understanding that she wouldn't do anything stupid.

Holly took her shot and held it up, "To stupid mistakes and their consequences."

Rogue clinked her shot against Holly's and downed it. She made a face, "It really is terrible. Bleh." Then she leaned over, watching Holly with curiosity, "So what does Logan kiss like?"

"I don't have anyone to compare to. The last guy I kissed was Joshua Clark in my grandparent's basement when I was thirteen." She put the money for the last round on the bar. "Ready?"

Rogue hopped down from her seat, wobbled slightly, straightened then giggled again. "You were right, ah am drunk."

"Light weight," Holly teased.

"Ah wouldn't have thought," Rogue said as they walked down the street, another pair of friends on a street with late Friday night traffic. "That you could drink."

Holly smiled to herself, "It was a pleasant surprise when I realized I could. Took me until my junior year in undergrad to figure it out." They turned down a street, less people, but still fairly busy, "I can have liquor but not beer. I hate wine but I love vodka. I can't stand wine coolers but they're easier on me than beer."

"I don't like tequila," Rogue told her friend.

"I'll try to remember that," Holly replied.

They navigated down another street, "Ah had a crush on Logan for a while." Rogue's voice had taken on that dreamy quality again, "He has that bad boy thing going on and ah liked it. And he saved my life. Ah always wondered what he kissed like."

Holly's mouth twisted into a rueful, almost sad imitation of a smile, "When he kisses me it's like there isn't anything in the world but him. Everything just goes away and spins on an axis all at the same time. I never, ever want to stop kissing him."

The words were out of her mouth and hanging there. They were ready to smack her in the face should she try to take them back. Warm fuzzy god damn feelings in her chest. The tight nervous knot in her stomach that said, 'I warned you!' while it dangled her heart from a string. Damn it. God damn it.

"So…so…" Rogue paused at a stop sign, "So you like him a lot or…?"

Or. Definitely or. "I don't know," Holly lied through her teeth.

"Ah like Remy," the younger woman went on, "Ah like him but ah can't touch him." She pouted, "It sucks."

"Yeah," Holly said, watching the ground as they walked, "it does."

* * *

**Chapter 16: **

Love is Dead - Kerli

Insensitive - Jann Arden

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - Doris Day

What I've Done - Linkin Park

* * *

The confrontation went about a dozen different ways in her head. All of which ended in her slapping him or kissing him. Or both. It took a lot of courage to walk into the basement's gym room. He was lifting weights. He made no sign he knew she was there even though she was fairly sure he knew.

"You're an idiot," was the first thing out of her mouth. It wasn't supposed to be. She had planned to make with the pleasantries and ask him if something was wrong. Stating that he was an idiot was not how this was supposed to start.

Logan pushed the barbell up once more set it in its resting spot and sat up. He looked at her, dark eyes hooded. "I was wonderin' when you were gonna get around to saying something."

Holly glared and took another step into the room. "You've been driving me crazy. I don't know what the hell is going on with…you." She had almost said us. "Last week you wanted me. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. This week you don't want to be near me. You won't even talk to me. I've been trying to think of something I did or said that I shouldn't have and I can't think of anything. I don't understand Logan what-"

"It ain't you. It's Summers." Logan interjected. He sounded angry and aggravated and…worried. Why would he be worried?

"What…what about him?" Holly asked carefully.

"I keep thinkin' that if he's alive then…" His voice trailed off in a silent implication.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

"You asshole," Holly snapped. "You idiot." Her hand suddenly itched to slap him. Instead she picked up the closest object, a three pound free weight and threw it at him. It thudded on the floor a foot to his left. "Jesus Christ, Logan, you killed her." Holly shouted. "You should know better than anyone that Jean Grey isn't coming back from that."

"You don't know that," he said solemnly. "She's come back before."

Holly threw another weight at him. It came closer but missed him entirely.

"Yer gonna hurt yerself." Logan told her flatly.

"What do you care? You're waiting on a dead woman. Who, by the way, if you happened to forget, rejected you not once but twice." Her eyes burned and her throat tightened.

He wasn't looking at her anymore. He was looking at the floor.

"Say something," Holly demanded.

"What do you want me to say?" He asked in annoyance. "I shouldn't have ignored ya all week. I'm sorry about that but I'm not gonna apologize for wanting Jean to be alive."

It felt a lot like her insides were suddenly hollow. Like the warmth had left her soul. Holly felt cold and very, very lonely. She took a shuddering breath and blinked to keep the tears from falling.

"You know what?" Holly held back a sob. "Leave me alone Logan. I liked it better when you were pretending I didn't exist." Her hand slammed into the panel at the side of the door that opened it. The door slid open. She walked through. The door slid closed behind her.

The spring fling probably wasn't the most appropriate name for a dance held in the gym on the second week of March but that was what the second dance of the year was called. Apparently school dances, even for mutant children, were considered positive reinforcement for the kids. And they helped everyone relax.

Supposedly.

Holly disagreed entirely. She could have relaxed much better upstairs in the teacher's lounge with a movie and a bowl of popcorn. Or with a book in her bedroom. Instead she was here chaperoning a dance, helping Rogue avoid Remy and oh yes, trying not to feel the ache in her chest when she saw Logan.

The song changed and the makeshift dance floor began to clear.

Holly's heels and toes tapped in time with the music. Doris Day was not a popular choice. It had to have been chosen by someone older. The floor had cleared fairly quickly on such a slow song. There was only Storm, dancing with Scott and Pitor dancing with the newest teacher, Ivy.

The ratio of male to female teachers was still nearly three to one.

The heel of her flats hit the floor with a soft click.

"There be no point in tapping your feet off the dance floor cher," a distinctly Cajun voice said from her right.

"If Rogue caches you asking me to dance before her she'll be pissed," Holly told him.

Remy held a hand out to her, "You want to dance or not cher?"

One of her eyebrows rose, "I don't think you dance as well as I do Gambit."

He gave her one of his wicked grins. One that said he knew something she didn't. Holly thought about it for a minute. The worst that could happen was that he made a fool of himself on the dance floor. Holly put her hand in his.

"Can you rumba?" Remey asked as he artfully spun her into his chest so that her back was pressed against him. Alright. Maybe he could dance.

Holly looked at him over her shoulder, "Can you keep up?"

He chuckled, low and deep. One of his hands dropped to her waist. Remy turned her around, catching one of her hands in his. Her other hand went to his shoulder. They were moving backwards, to the side, following the quick, quick, slow movement of the beat.

He circled her, once, twice, walking them backwards. On the third his hand guided her arm over his head to where she wrapped it loosely around his neck. She held onto his shoulder, his arm went under her waist. The dip came and it wasn't loose or reckless. He brought her up sharply, his right arm remaining in the air. She ran her own left hand up her waist slowly as he turned her, his left arm on her waist. Her right arm went to his waist. Her right arm joined in a slight arch above their heads. Their tips of their fingers touched then their hands fell in unison. He framed her face, she framed his.

"I assume," she murmured meeting his gaze, "that you are trying to make Rogue jealous?"

The grin that broke on his face said it before his mouth did, "Oui."

He stepped back and spun her away once, faster this time. Following it by a lunge step that brought their hips together. He stepped back and put her into another spin that brought her back against him. Another to send her around him guided by the arm that had been on her waist.

The music ended and Holly was where she had been, back pressed to Remy's chest.

"You're good," Holly told him, looking over her shoulder.

"Same to you cher." Remy replied. He took her hand and kissed the knuckles of her gloves.

She stepped away from him and went for a drink at the punch table. A wall of Logan's chest was suddenly in her way. Her heart jumped into her throat. Holly moved back away from him.

It had been nearly a full two months since she'd told him to leave her alone. For the most part he had. Aside from the teacher's meetings that the Professor called, Logan and Holly had only seen each other in the hall.

Holly sidestepped him. Her heart was thudding in her chest. That nervous knot in her stomach, the one that only seemed to form when he was around, tightened to an almost painful throb. Holly fought to keep her back and shoulders straight under the heat of his gaze.

"I want to talk to you."

She lifted the cup of punch to her lips, "About?" Holly was betting that he wouldn't say anything with this many people around. There were students and Storm was standing not too far away.

"Not here."

Bingo. She smiled at him politely, blandly, "I'm chaperoning the dance Logan." She felt the part that she was playing. A woman scorned. Hell hath no fury that compared.

He took her elbow. Not hard, it didn't hurt. "Right now." It was almost a growl.

Holly yanked her arm from his grip, "Fine. Outside." She set her cup down on the table.

When she said outside she had meant all the way outside. The early spring air was cold at night, too cold for her to be out there without a jacket. Holly wrapped her arms around herself. "What do you want?"

He looked…furious. "You and the Cajun, you got something going on?"

Holly scowled at him darkly, "What do you care?"

"Answer me." Logan demanded.

"I don't have to." Holly yelled at him, "You don't want me, remember?"

"I never said that," he snapped.

She wanted to hit him. To slap him and make it hurt. Make it hurt the way her insides were hurting. Holly slapped him. He made no move to stop her. He turned his head with it to make it easier on her hand. It still felt like hitting a brick wall.

"I hate you so much right now," Holly told him, wringing her hand to rid it of the sting pain in her palm, "I hate you and I love you and god damn it you make me insane."

He growled before crushing his mouth against hers. She struggled against him wanting to hurt him until he hurt as much as she did. Logan kissed her, pouring the last two months of wanting her into it. He felt her body tense, stiffening as two months of memory hit her.

He wanted her to know about his sleepless nights. About walking to her door, almost knocking and then walking away, because she'd asked him to leave her alone. Going to the teacher's lounge and wanting her to be in there so he'd have an excuse to say something to her. Walking into a bookstore and buying her a collector's edition that was now gathering dust on his dresser.

Two months is a lot of memory to catch up on.

Holly's body convulsed. Her head jerked back, her eyes rolling into her head. Logan held her, waiting. Her nose bled crimson, dark and arterial. Then she stilled. Her breathing evened out. Her eyes fluttered open.

Holly blinked slowly up at him. Then she placed her hands on his chest and shoved. "Let go."

Logan released her instantly, "I told you I'd screw up bad at least once," he told her honestly. "I screwed up. I know it."

Holly wiped at her nose with the back of her sleeve. The cold air penetrated her turtleneck making her shiver. Holly wrapped her arms around herself again. "Is that your way of apologizing? Giving me a migraine, making my nose bleed and forcing me to kiss you?"

"What else was I supposed to do?" He ground out. "You wouldn't have let me touch you otherwise."

She wiped at her nose again, "Now you'll never know."

He let out a frustrated, angry growl. "You want me to say I'm sorry?" He asked, "I'm sorry. I'm fucking sorry."

Holly wanted to believe him. Every part of her heart wanted to believe him. She wanted to say she forgave him but…but… tears burned in her eyes. "Logan…I don't think that…" but she couldn't make the words come out.

Her breath caught in her throat.

He looked defeated.

Maybe it was better if she didn't tell him. Maybe she should just walk away. Holly turned her back on him. She told her brain to tell her feet to walk but the message got lost along the way. Strong arms wrapped around her pulling her back against his chest.

He was warm. God he was so warm. He smelled so good like woods and musk and everything that made him Logan. His mouth pressed to her ear, "Would you please come back by the time I count to fifty?"

Holly let out a small sob. She turned in his arms and buried her face in his chest. "You're still an idiot," she told him weakly.

"Yeah," Logan said, tightening his arms around her. "I know."

The dancing between Remy and Holly is similar to the one in the movie Strictly Ballroom at 41:00 – 43:04. It's by no means a good movie, but I do love the story.

* * *

**Chapter 17: **

Come on Closer -Jem

New Divide - Linkin Park

Time Stands Still - The All American Rejects

Clocks - Coldplay

* * *

Logan's mouth was moving purposefully down her neck. His hand was tugging at the buttons to her slacks. Holly's body was humming with excitement. She ran her fingers down his back, nails digging in when he found that spot on her shoulder that made the world tilt on an axis. The zipper went down. His fingers dipped under the waistband of her blue and white checked cotton panties.

There was a knocking at the door.

Holly groaned softly in disappointment. "Who is it?"

"Kurt Wagner," thought it came out sounding more like Kurt Vagner.

Logan smiled into the skin of her neck and bit her lightly. His fingers that had previously stilled in a precarious position in her underwear, continued their decent. "Tell him yer busy."

"Um," Holly's voice squeaked when his mouth nipped at the sensitive skin under her ear. "Kurt, I'm really kind of busy could you…um…" Words. Where were the words? Logan's teeth tugged at one of her earlobes. Holly's words were mush that could not leave her brain. The connection between her brain and the muscles controlling her vocal chords and mouth hit the blockade her endorphins had created.

"I vas vondering if I could speak vith you about a book you could use in your literature class." The blue teleporter said through the door.

Logan pulled away from Holly suddenly. He didn't bother to readjust the lump of hard flesh in his jeans. Or pull on his shirt. Or his belt. Or fix his hair. He unlocked the door and yanked it open.

Kurt's mouth opened in an O of surprise.

"She's busy bub." Logan said. Then he shut the door in Kurt's face.

Holly covered her head with a pillow and let out a squeak of mortified disbelief. The bed dipped with his weight. He pulled the pillow off her head.

"I cannot believe you just did that."

He let out a low, masculine growl that sent shivers down her spine.

Logan leaned down, kissing her neck. He bit her hard at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Holly yelped, and then moaned with pleasure when he lapped and sucked at the bruise. The bed dipped further as he stretched out next to her again.

Holly giggled, "You are terrible."

His fingers slipped back under the elastic of her panties. Finger tips pressing lightly against the tight bundle of nerves at the top of her sex. "Oh yeah?"

She bit her lip, back arching, "Yeah."

Logan smirked. His fingers trailed lower. "You wet for me darlin'?"

Holly made an incoherent sound, her hips bucking up to meet his hand.

Another knock interrupted them. "Go away!" Holly and Logan shouted in unison.

"Sorry!" That was Rogue's voice. There was the sound of someone leaving the door quickly.

Holly giggled again. She covered her mouth with her hand. Logan rolled off her, laughing.

"I didn't know you were that popular darlin'." Logan said.

Holly shifted on the bed, curling up against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. "I'm not. People just have crap timing tonight."

Logan wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He tugged the tie holding her braid together down. Her hair unraveled as his fingers ran through it over and over, freeing long brown locks from their bindings. Her hair felt soft like feathers against his hand.

Yawning Holly looked at the clock on the night table. It was almost nine thirty on a Friday night. She draped her arm over his chest. His fingers trailed slowly up and down her spine. The room was quiet aside from their breathing.

"You don't have to say it back," Holly said after a few long moments of silence.

"Say what?" Logan asked.

She bit her lip. Her fingers traced lazy patterns on his bare chest. "Nothing. Never mind."

He caught her hand against his chest and moved it over his heart. The thumping rhythm quickened under her touch. "It's yours," Logan murmured in her ear.

Holly pushed up just enough to press her mouth against his. Hey, that worked too.

"Ah'm sorry," Rogue apologized. "Ah'm really, really sorry. Ah swear ah didn't know. Ah wouldn't have bothered you if ah'd known. Ah promise."

"You're babbling," Holly told the younger woman. They entered the kitchen decently early on the following Saturday morning. "And stop apologizing."

Logan was already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and eating a bowl of what looked like Cheerios. "Mornin'," he said.

Rogue turned a soft shade of pink, "Ah'm really sorry Logan. Ah didn't know."

His gaze shifted to Holly who rolled her eyes heavenward. "Stop apologizing kid. I heard you all the way down the hall." He ate another spoonful of cereal.

The plan was not to deny it. They were together and if someone had a problem with that then they could take a long walk off a short cliff. Or they could talk to Logan's claws.

Either way they'd get the message.

"Did you see the paper this morning?" Logan asked Holly after she'd put on a kettle and grabbed a tea bag from one of the cabinets.

"No," Holly said. She opened another cabinet, "Did someone pick up more peanut butter yet?"

"Top shelf," Rogue told her. "Ah don't know how you eat that crunchy stuff. It's so…"

"Crunchy," Remy finished for her. "Good morning ma petite," He winked at her. Rouge blushed.

"Mornin' Remy," the younger woman said.

Holly caught her boyfriend's eye and mouthed the nickname. He shrugged. Holly finished spreading the peanut butter on her bagel and moved to lean on the counter next to him. They watched the painful flirting act between Rogue and Remy.

Once the two were gone, Holly looked up at Logan. "Did I miss something?"

"Only if I did." He ate the last spoonful of cereal. "You should look at the paper darlin'." Logan set the bowl down on the island in the middle of the kitchen. He grabbed a copy of the Newsday that was sitting face down on the tile.

Tony Stark's profile took up the page.

Holly swallowed hard around the last mouthful of her bagel. Then she coughed because it went down rough. Her heartbeat sped up. "He's going to be in Manhattan?"

"It was on the news earlier." Logan told her.

Holly couldn't stop staring at her father's profile on the cover of the paper.

"Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man, will be in Manhattan today-"The newscaster was cut off by the pause button. Holly rewound the TiVo a few seconds and played the same section again. On screen her father, or at least the man her mother said was her father, was shown in a charcoal suit entering a building. She rewound the section again and played it again.

Logan, the ever thoughtful, had recorded it for her.

"I think," Remy said from the doorway, "that you can wear out the dvr cher."

Holly stopped the recording again. "He's my father Remy," she looked over her shoulder slightly, "and this is the closest he's ever been to where I am." Then she hit play again. The newscaster continued.

"Do you want to go meet him?"

Holly opened her mouth. Then closed it. Her lips pressed into a thin line. "He has a life, and he's Iron Man and I don't even know if he remembers my mother. I don't know if he'll think I want something from him or if he'll even want contact with me."

"Dat wasn't what I asked," Remy said.

Her hand ran over her face, "I don't know."

Rogue, all smiles and a bounce to her step stopped in the doorway to the television room, "We're ready to go when you are Holly."

Holly's eyebrows went up, "We?"

Rogue shrugged, "Alright, Logan's ready to go when you are." When Holly didn't move, Rogue cocked her head, one hand on her hip, "You've been staring at that recording for two hours. Logan had the car ready a half hour ago." She was looking at her friend expectantly.

Holly looked at the television, but the recording had finished and it was just on a blue screen now. She bit her lower lip. "I don't even know if he would want to know."

"Den go find out cher," Remy supplied.

There was a swarm of reporters, mostly women. Holly had heard he was a notorious play boy. She stood amongst the reporters, getting elbowed or shoved every so often. Logan had wanted to be there, her bodyguard as it were but she'd told him to wait across the street. She needed to look like a cute, unattached female to get his attention.

It really was like the movies when her father came out of the doors the reporters started shouting questions at him. Holly was almost trampled in the stamped. She slammed one elbow into the stomach of the man pushing by her.

"Mister Stark," Holly said but it was drowned in the other people shouting the same thing. Damn it. Then she thought of something. She elbowed her way to the front, nearly falling against the arm of an NYPD cop who was holding back the line. Shouting to attempt to carry her voice over the din, "Do you remember Rosalie Harper?"

That made Tony Stark stop. He turned his head toward the quieting throng. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes but he was obviously looking for the person that had spoken.

"I'm her daughter," Holly said much less loudly. She swallowed hard once he was looking at her. Oh. That's where her nose and chin had come from. Her dark hair was the same sort of almost wavy.

"Let her through," Tony said.

The cop who Holly had nearly tackled let her pass. Suddenly she was face to face with her father. Or at least the man that her mother insisted was her father. "I," Holly said but her voice died on her lips. Of all the times she had planned on talking to him, meeting him, she had never planned on not coming up with a damned thing to say to him.

"Mind going for a drive?" He asked.

Holly nodded slowly. A somewhat portly man, who Holly supposed was Tony Stark's driver opened the limo door. She climbed into the car and settled on the leather seating. Then he was in and the car was moving a few moments later.

"How is Rosie?" Tony asked as he pulled off his dark sunglasses.

Holly pressed her lips together. "My mother died about eleven years ago," It still hurt to think about it sometimes, "of complications during cancer treatment."

The concern that crossed his face was enough to let her know he cared. "I'm sorry," he said and he really did sound upset. Then his face fixed behind a mask, "But what can I do for you Miss…?" And he said it as if he thought she actually wanted something from him.

"Holly. Holly Harper." Holly tried to smile, but it came out watery. "My mother…" she bit her lip unsure how to go about this. How did you tell a man that he's probably your father? "My mother said you met in Santa Cruz about twenty nine years ago."

He nodded, "About that."

Her heart jumped into her throat. It had to be like a band-aid. She just had to rip it off. "I…" again her voice died. She closed her eyes, took an unsteady breath and said, "I'm twenty eight. My birthday is May twenty fourth. Which means I was conceived in late August or early September. "

He opened his mouth to say something. More than likely a denial of the possibility. Her mother had confessed that they had only been together three times. Then she saw the calculations behind his eyes. His mouth closed. The math made sense.

"I've got an I.Q. of one forty three. Everyone in my family has light hair and I have dark brown. Almost black. No one in my family tree has this nose or this chin." Holly continued on feeling for all the world like she was babbling. She probably was but it felt like she shouldn't stop. Because if she stopped he would tell her to get out and get lost. "I don't want you to think I want something from you. I don't. I don't want anything. I just…" she shrugged. "I wanted you to know. My mom wanted you to know. She tried to get in contact with you after she found out she was pregnant but…"

His face had gone stony. Impassable. He pressed something on what Holly had thought was an armrest against the wall of the limo. "Pull over here Happy."

Holly reached up and yanked out two of her own hairs. She didn't hold them out to him but placed them on the seat. The car door opened. "I'm a teacher in upstate New York. The Xavier Institute." Then she climbed from the car.

The driver had only circled the block. Logan was still there across the street. She waved to him. He crossed the street after the limo had pulled away.

"How'd it go?" He asked.

For some strange reason Holly wanted to cry. She shook her head, wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. He didn't say anything. Logan held her tightly and let her cry into his shirt.

* * *

**Chapter 18: **

The Quiet Freak - Mannikin

Coming Undone - Korn

Candy Shop - 50 Cent featuring Olivia

It was completely inexplicable, this sudden need to touch Logan everywhere. Holly couldn't connect the need to touch him and keep touching him to anything rational but the desire, the want…it was overwhelming.

They were driving back up to Westchester after the misadventure of meeting her father when it hit her. Maybe it was the fact that this was the first time they were really alone together since reconciling. There were no interruptions in sight and the wooded area they were taking a shortcut through was dark even at six in the evening.

Kneeling in her seat, leaning just enough to allow her to nibble on his earlobe. He tilted his head to the side giving her access. The low pleased rumbles in his chest and throat encouraged her. She nipped at the sensitive skin under his ear. Her fingers dipped beneath the neckline of his tank, nails tailing across hard muscles and warm flesh. His knuckles went white from gripping the steering wheel.

Holly was surprised he could drive straight.

"Did I ever tell you," she murmured against his ear, "how much you turn me on?"

Logan chuckled, an all male sound that sent shivers down Holly's spine. "No darlin', I can't say that you have."

"Mmm," she pressed her mouth to his neck, lapping at the skin there. "You do. All you have to do is walk into a room and I can't think of anything I want more than to feel your hands on me." She emphasized her point by gently biting his chin. "I get wet thinking about you on top of me," she licked the same spot, "over me, inside-"

"Holly," Logan ground out effectively stopping her words. He shifted his weight to adjust the pressure growing in his jeans, "how about we wait until we get back to the mansion before you finish tellin' me."

Pulling back just a little she blinked at him in the growing dark, "Why?"

His mouth set in a firm line. Logan looked at her, then back at the road, "I didn't bring any condoms and I wasn't plannin' takin' you in a car the first time." His plan had involved a bed, and a lot of preparation. He had planned on getting her so ready for him that she wouldn't feel any pain. Logan had planned on making her scream his name the way she did in his fantasies. That wasn't going to happen if she kept going the way she was going. His control was a hair's breath from snapping.

Deliberately her fingers trailed up the inseam of his jeans. The car swerved slightly. With a smile that was absolutely devious, "But maybe I want you to take me in the car." She cupped him through the dark blue material, "I need you inside me Logan."

So much for planning.

The car swerved again. The turning signal was flicked on and he was pulling over to the shoulder of the wooded road. Holly hit her seat buckle the moment the car stopped. Logan all but ripped his out of its lock. He pulled her into his lap and kissed her, his mouth devouring hers. Stealing her air, making her dizzy with desire.

His hands were up under her long skirt, pushing it up so that it bunched at her waist. Then he was tugging her leggings and panties down. Holly had to slide into the passenger seat again to kick off her shoes and other movement hindering articles of clothing. The moment they were gone she was in his lap again.

Logan shoved the seat back as far as it would go to create space in an already cramped area. Holly was tugging at the zipper to his jeans. His fingers cupped the curve of her bottom, adjusting her angle, giving him better access. He felt the warm moisture between her legs against his fingertips and groaned. Logan presses hot, open mouthed kisses to the bare skin of her neck. "You ready for me darlin'?" He asked his voice rough, husky.

Holly slid forward until she was straddling his clothed hardness. She rocked against him easing the pressure between her legs. "Please Logan…," her body tried in vain to slake the aching emptiness between her legs. "Please," Holly begged.

He reached between them, freeing himself from the confines of his clothes. With his other hand he stilled the movement of Holly's hips. She bowed her head, nails digging into his biceps. Logan bit the junction between her neck and shoulder.

Holly cried out in pleasure.

Logan's hips rocked forward twice, completely sheathing himself inside her. Her inner walls convulsed around him, protesting the intrusion. He wanted to move, to drive himself into her over and over again but he held still.

"Ow," Holly hissed as a stinging pain shot up into her. Fingers were nothing compared to this. He felt enormous. Blunt and rigid and unbearably, blistering hot inside her. Her body stretched uncomfortably tight to accommodate his length, his girth.

This was supposed to feel good. Wasn't this supposed to feel good? Her brow creased trying to grasp at the memory of how good it had felt with his fingers inside her to no avail. Her insides stung and her body's instinct was to pull away.

Logan held her against him, teeth gritted, eyes closed. She could feel how much he relished being inside her. He had waited so long. He had wanted her so badly. His thoughts ran along the lines of telling himself to be gentle, to go slow, don't hurt her. At the same time his body wanted nothing more than to ram up inside her.

In frustration she wriggled against him, trying to garner anything from the contact. Oh…a faint curl of pleasure flexed in her lower belly when she finally hit the right angle. Holly repeated the movement. Her head fell back, eyes closed. A helpless, wanting breath left her throat. She moved again with a slow languid roll of her hips. This time a shuddering moan fell from her lips. The pleasure curled higher, tighter inside her. Instinct told her that if he moved it would feel so much better. He held still, trying not to move.

"I'm not a doll," Holly murmured in reassurance. She cupped his face, her fingers stroking over his beard. "I won't break."

Logan breathed heavily, "I know yer not," he rasped. He held her waist, leaning her back against the steering wheel. Holly gave an incoherent cry of encouragement.

Her hands clutched at the material of his shirt. "Logan," she breathed in a ragged whispering chant. "Oh Logan…Logan…"

He gripped the back of her head, dragging her down for a devouring kiss. He eased her legs back, angling them, forcing her knees to bend. They both cried out in ecstasy when he sank into her completely, fully. His hips surged, the pace speeding up. Holly bounced, meeting him thrust for thrust. Logan's head bowed against her chest, his body taking on an erratic rhythm as he buried himself inside her.

Without warning the world shook and then shattered. Holly's back went rigid a strangled cry falling from her lips. Of its own accord her body went wild, one hand slammed up into the roof of the car when he thrust into her again. She gripped at the seat, his shoulders, and his arms. Anything that felt solid enough to help her keep her sanity.

Then Logan howled her name loud and long. His grip bordered on painful as his hips pumped wildly. His seed emptying into her in scalding bursts. His breathing was strained, coming hot puffs of air against the damp material of her shirt.

Holly ran her fingers through his hair, down his back and up again. She kissed his neck, his cheek. "Logan," she murmured, "are you okay?"

"Shouldn't," he said in a rough whisper, "I be askin' you that darlin'?"

Her fingers trailed down his back again. She pressed her lips to his neck, "Probably."

Then he was pulling her down into rough, demanding kiss.

God…she would never get tired of that.

* * *

I DO NOT under any circumstance advocate having sex without a condom. STD's abound in this world and there is no excuse for not taking precautions. Fortunately for both Holly and Logan they're fictional characters currently under my control.

**Chapter 19: **

One Thing - Finger Eleven

Change the World - Eric Clapton

Story of a Girl - Nine Days

* * *

In Holly's opinion April Fool's day should have been a holiday but the US government, and the Professor, disagreed. So she was teaching on April Fool's day. At least she could have a little fun. Besides, they had finally gotten to reading the Twilight Saga.

"Okay," Holly hopped up on the corner of the desk. The eager faces that looked back at her was enough to let her know they enjoyed the reading. She grinned at her students. "So I'm guessing the reading popular huh?"

A hand shot up.

"Jimmy, I've told you, stop raising your hand and speak your mind."

The boy blushed a little, but his bright eyes never wavered. "Are we going to read the whole series?"

Holly pretended to contemplate the idea, her finger tapping against her chin, "I don't know…"

"Please," another girl, one with red eyes and amber skin said, "I would really like to."

There was a gentle tap at the classroom door. She looked up and the smile she had been wearing went from mischievous and secretive to nervous. Her father stood in the doorway. Some of the students turned their heads back. A few whispers started.

"Well," Holly attempted to recover, "It looks like we have a visitor guys." Quickly she slid off the desk. Her feet landed on the floor with a little click-tap. "Tony Stark. To what do we owe the honor?"

Then Kurt poofed into existence next to her, some of the paper on her desk fluttered to the floor. "Zee Professor requested I take over your classes for zee day." Kurt said.

Holly's eyebrows nearly hit the vaulted ceiling of the classroom. She tossed Kurt the book and he stared down at the cover. The hands and apple stared back at him. "Bet you never read it."

"No," he said in his thick accent, "I have not."

"Okay guys, pencils and paper. I want you to write a short summary of the chapters we read then I want your impressions of the characters and under that I want five questions or observations for what you think might happen in the story." There were groans. Holly patted Kurt's back. "Good luck."

Kurt's eyes settled on the normal looking human man at the doorway. "To you too freundin."

They were outside on the semi-circle balcony. Neither of them talked.

"I always wondered why Rosie never called me," Tony told her. "I waited and waited and eventually I started to think she found another guy in New York and didn't want to be my" he paused for a moment, as if he were thinking of something else and had lost his train of thought. "Friend anymore."

"Girlfriend," Holly said, "you thought she didn't want you anymore."

His mouth set in a wry line. "Something like that."

"She wrote you," Holly told him. "I wrote you too. At least five different times."

He sighed, it was a world weary sound that said he'd had too many hours of problems and not enough time doing what made him happy. "From what I understand someone had taken anything you or Rosie had sent me." And it sounded like he knew exactly who it was.

"Don't you want a paternity test or something?"

Tony gave her a rueful smile. He held up a strand of long dark hair. One of the ones she had left in the limo that day no doubt. "I had one done already." He let the hair go. The wind took it away.

Holly swallowed. Twenty odd years of wondering and all it took was a strand of hair and five words. Talk about shell shock.

"So you're a…" his voice trailed off as if it would be presumptuous to finish the sentence.

"Mutant." Holly rubbed her neck in a nervous gesture, "Yeah." She walked forward a little, toward him, then thought better of it and moved to the side instead. "You're carrying the gene you know."

"What's yours?"

"Tactile absorption of memories and emotions. Post cognition on touch. Basically what psychics like to call a touch know."

His eyes were a little wide. "That…sounds like a lot."

"I'm a class four," Holly said simply as if he would understand it. His slightly blank look told her he didn't. "I'm dangerous because I can see things people wouldn't normally want me to see and I can overload someone's brain into literal shutdown if I want to."

"But you have to get your hands on them." Tony said after a moment of absorbing the information.

"Yeah."

"Can you," He started, and then started to think better of it. "Do you think," and he moved his hand in a gesture she usually made. He circled his head, "That you could show me some of your life growing up? I've missed so much of it."

Holly frowned. She shook her head slowly, "No. I'm sorry. If I try to push memories into someone else it hurts them and me."

He looked disappointed.

"I could tell you about it though."

He smiled, but it didn't fully reach his eyes, "Sure."

It was nearly four in the afternoon by the time they were walking to his car. He had a plane to catch in Albany at six. The silver Lamborghini picked up on the light of the sun and shone in it. "Nice car."

"You want one?" Tony asked as if it meant nothing.

Well if she really had an idea of how much money he had, then she supposed it didn't really.

Holly laughed, "I'm a little more on the conservative side, but thank you for the offer."

A telling frown formed at the corners of his mouth. "Isn't there anything I can do for you? I've been missing from your life for nearly thirty years."

Her lips pressed into a line, "There really isn't anything I need." Then an idea sparked in her head. "Wait," and she bit her lip because it was a lot to ask. It really was. "Would you…" and it felt awkward to ask it. "Would you walk me down the aisle?"

The shock on his face was priceless.

Holly blushed.

"You're getting married?"

"Well…no, not yet. Logan and I…we're…" how did she say it without making it sound terrible? "I know that he would marry me today if he could. If he asked me I'd say yes."

And, she supposed that Logan had been listening so technically it was his cue, Logan was walking over. All jeans, white t-shirt and his worn cowboy boots. He was shrugging on his leather jacket. He even had his cigar. So much for making an impression on her father.

Logan was at least three or four inches taller than her father, wider through the shoulders and more muscular in the arms and legs. He took the cigar from his mouth with two fingers. "Heard you gave up your classes for the day."

"Logan," Holly said motioning to Tony, "This is my father, Tony Stark. Tony," and it was becoming so much easier to say that, "This is Logan, my boyfriend."

Logan scowled at her, but a smirk made it to his mouth. He extended his hand to Tony, "Good to meet you."

Tony hesitated. "You're a little old for Holly, aren't you?"

A short, slightly high pitched giggle spilled from Holly's mouth. She covered it with a gloved hand. They both looked at her. Logan with an odd little smile and her father with confusion. "Let me put it this way, Tony," She put an arm around Logan's waist and patted his stomach with the other; "The oldest woman in the world is a little young for him."

Logan really did scowl this time, but he kept his mouth shut. He had ways of making her pay for that jibe. He put the cigar back in his mouth and gave her a look that made her blush from head to toe.

Holly coughed a little, red faced and a little jittery. "He's a regenerative, it prevents him from aging." She left off the, 'like you and I.' She knew very well that Logan was going to look the same while she started getting older.

But she had years and years before that happened.

They walked to the gate, and then, after she had planted a kiss on her father's cheek, and he shook Logan's hand once more. He was gone. She closed the gate after him.

"Feels weird," Holly said.

Logan's arm went around her shoulder, "What does?"

She shrugged and leaned on him a little. Her arm went around his waist. "When I got here last year I didn't have any friends and I had shit control over my power."

"And now?" he said.

She sighed, and it was a happy sound, "Now I've got you, friends, and a teaching position, a life that I like and I haven't had a fit in months."

"Sounds like you came full circle," Logan said as he pushed open the mansion's front door.

"Yeah," Holly said with a smile. "It kinda does."

* * *

**Chapter 20: Epilogue**

Swing Life Away - Rise Against

Eyes - Rogue Wave

Somebody to Love - Queen

In My Arms - Plumb

* * *

She shouldn't have felt nauseous on her birthday of all days but she did. Holly turned in the bed, attempting to cuddle up to Logan and drive away the cold and clammy feeling that crept across her skin. It didn't work. His intense warmth against the cool of her skin sent a wave of nausea crashing through her stomach.

Holly forced herself to get out of bed.

She pulled on a hoodie and trudged out into the living room area of her father's house.

Now that Tony knew he had a daughter he wanted her around, even if she was grown. So he had invited Holly, and thereby Logan, to stay with him after the school year had let out at the end of May. Nine days later, Holly, and Logan, were sleeping in a mansion on the coast of Malibu.

Well, technically Logan was sleeping.

Holly on the other hand was making herself tea in the kitchen. She looked at the digital clock on the microwave. Then she glared at her own reflection in the black glass. It wasn't even nine in the morning.

"Good morning Miss Holly," said an electronic British voice.

Holly jumped her heart beat in her throat. Jarvis. She would never, in her life, get used to a smart A.I. like Jarvis. "Good morning Jarvis," she said weakly.

Tony had programmed Jarvis to recognize her under the reasoning that he'd already programmed the computer to recognize Pepper and Hogan. Holly was his daughter so why shouldn't Jarvis recognize her too. He also hinted that once Logan put a ring on Holly's finger then Jarvis would have to be reprogrammed again.

Maybe that was why she was sick. Holly mused while she sipped from her mug. Nervous jitters over the shiny bit of jewelry she'd found in Logan's sock while she was unpacking for him. It had been tiny and pristine looking in that blue box. He'd gone to an actual jeweler to get it.

The ring had been either silver or white gold, she couldn't tell. She had never really been one for jewelry. The diamond wasn't big, it was small and square. When the light hit it the stone had sparkled like, well, a diamond. It had two tiny emeralds chips on the sides. It was beautiful. She had wanted to say yes right then and there but she hadn't. Holly had put the ring back in the box and put the box back in his bag and had gone about putting away his other things while he showered.

Her stomach made no protest to the idea. In fact, she was starting to feel somewhat better. Holly contemplated fixing herself something to eat. Nothing big. Toast and butter. Maybe some peanut butter?

Her stomach roiled again.

It wasn't as if she'd eaten anything out of the ordinary last night. Tony had taken them out to this fancy restaurant and Holly had ordered like she always did, salad hold the meat. Her father understood why she couldn't eat meat. He had come to the conclusion on his own and adjusted for her.

Holly smiled into her cup of ginger tea.

It was also getting easier to call Tony her father. It felt awkward at first because Pop had been her father figure all her life. Once she started saying it though. Boy, did it get easier. One of these days she expected to slip and call Tony dad by accident.

He introduced her as his daughter to Pepper and Happy.

Speaking of. "Good morning Pepper," Holly said with a half smile to the woman entering the kitchen.

The red haired woman smiled at her the way an employee smiles at her employer. Polite and short. "Good morning."

There was a definite tension there. There was reason for tension there, at least in Holly's opinion. Pepper was attracted to Tony which was obvious, she was his employee and his friend. On all of those levels she had the right to be suspicious of Holly and Holly's motives.

Holly just wished the woman would come out with it already instead of being so polite.

Happy already had.

Logan trudged into the kitchen a few minutes later. Pepper was in the middle of fixing Tony a cup of coffee. He had expensive Italian imports instead of plain old Folgers. Logan liked his Folgers. He waited until Pepper was gone to start his own coffee.

"You got up early," Logan said while he waited for the coffee pot to fill up.

Holly gave him a watery smile, "I felt sick to my stomach." She sipped the last of her tea.

"Was it somethin' you ate last night?" He supplied with concern.

She shrugged and set her cup down. She touched the cloth over her stomach, "I'm just nauseas. It'll pass."

He did not look like he was going to take that as an answer. "Jet lag? You took a nap yesterday. I've never seen you nap."

Holly smiled at him. She pressed up on her toes and planted a kiss on his mouth, "Stop worrying. It's probably nothing."

Logan still didn't look like he believed her.

Holly went about making herself another cup of tea. She had taken a nap yesterday, for about two hours. Which, yes, was unusual. It could have been jet lag. The three hour difference between the east coast and the west coast had gotten to her the night they arrived.

Still, that wouldn't explain…

Then Holly went absolutely still in the middle of reaching for the ginger tea again. What had her mother said? What had she said? Holly wracked her brain for it. How many times had she heard her mother say it when she was little?

Then she remembered.

"I was so tired all the time, even after we got home. I thought it was just jet lag," Holly murmured aloud. "But jet lag after two months?"

Oh the immortal words of her mother.

"What?" Logan asked.

Holly pulled off her glove and lifted the hem of her shirt just a little. She pressed the flat of her palm against her stomach. There it was. A spark and then another spark. Not one but two heartbeats fluttering like the wings of hummingbirds inside her.

A sob that had nothing to do with sadness spilled from her lips.

He was there in front of her then, holding her by the shoulders, his brow creased in worry. "What's wrong?"

Holly took one of his hands from her shoulder and placed it on her lower stomach. It wasn't a bulge yet. It was soft and a little plushier than her stomach normally was. Maybe that counted as a baby bulge. Was it still just a baby bulge if it was twins?

Logan didn't look as if he understood yet. His other hand left her shoulder to cup her face. He must have felt it, or heard it, or maybe it had finally dawned on him. She didn't know. The lines of confusion and worry left his face. Logan looked down at his hand under hers. His fingers splayed over the skin of her stomach as if trying to get a better feel for the two beings growing inside her.

Then he was kissing her as if he couldn't get enough of her. Holly wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back. "I love you," Logan murmured between kisses. "I love you."

Holly pressed her mouth to his, "I love you too."

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story about ten years ago. It has been slightly edited for glaring spelling mistakes. The original is on fanfiction net.


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